


Works In Progress

by kaiface



Series: Continuing Works In Varying States of Progress [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After Season 2/Before Season 3, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Stiles, Awesome Erica, Banshee Lydia Martin, Biting, Blow Jobs, Character Death, Claustrophobia, Creeper Peter, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Deviates From Canon, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Gen, Hand Jobs, Isaac Feels, M/M, Masturbation, More Danny, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Phone Sex, Protective Derek, Protective Scott, Sassy Peter, Scratching, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 59,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiface/pseuds/kaiface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Are we making a mistake?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Probably."</i>
</p><p> <i>“Am I going to regret this?”</i></p><p> <i>“Definitely.”</i></p><p> </p><p>In which Isaac struggles with his attraction to older men who also happen to be sociopaths, Peter is a Grade-A Creep, Derek is bad at feelings, and everyone is concerned about Isaac's life choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foundation

**Author's Note:**

> Title is Works In Progress because of [this quote](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/post/55454806956).
> 
> So this monster is complete! I hope everyone has enjoyed the ride as much as I have. If you're visiting for the first time, welcome, and thank you!
> 
> This is a slow-build on the main pairing with a little bit of side story, but the main reason I started this was to fuel the fire of my favorite rarepair. Archive warnings don't apply until later on in the story. The story starts shortly after the finish of Season 2 and carries on through Season 3 Part 1, with some alterations to the story and timeline, so hopefully that doesn't bother anyone.
> 
> Works In Progress is now being translated into French by [lovePEOPLEandCOWBOY](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/791898/lovePEOPLEandCOWBOY), here: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11439372/1/Works-In-Progress>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the full playlist for this story here:
> 
> [Works In Progress](http://8tracks.com/kairros/works-in-progress?utm_medium=trax_embed) from [Kairros](http://8tracks.com/kairros?utm_medium=trax_embed) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=trax_embed).

Life after the Kanima takes some getting used to.

It's been a month already, and Isaac is convinced by now that he'll never really be used to it. Without Erica and Boyd around, things are...quiet, or quieter than they had been. And with Derek's uncle around, things are even more tense than before.

To his credit, Peter seems to keep to himself. For the first few weeks while he's still regaining his strength after his resurrection, he stays mostly in his room. He comes down for food, or to peruse the bookshelf, or to give Derek pointers on the reconstruction of their house. Isaac finds it odd, and a little funny, that the man doesn't offer to help. Then again, he's not sure if Derek would even let him if he wanted; the first and only time Isaac asked to help, Derek yelled at him so loudly it made the newly installed window panes rattle.

Later that day, when Isaac is sitting on the porch working on a project for school, Peter exits the house through the front door, keys to the Camaro jingling in his hand.

“Don't mind him, he just feels some twisted sense of honor is driving him to rebuild the family home he helped destroy,” is the explanation he gets in passing, and Peter is already down by the car by the time Isaac connects his voice to his thoughts.

“Where are you going?” out of all of the questions he could have asked, it was the first thing he could manage. Peter leans on the roof of the car, looking across the leaf-covered yard at Isaac. Pondering.

“Into town. Derek needs some things for the construction and I have a sneaking suspicion that we could use a few more grocery items,” Peter's voice sounds teasing and playful, and it sort of makes Isaac want to punch the other Beta, but he settles for a small frown instead. Peter jingles the keys one more time. “Want to come?”

“I've got this project I need to finish...” the words are barely out of Isaac's mouth before Peter is in the car and peeling out of the reserve. Isaac wonders, briefly, if he made the older man angry. Then he realizes that he doesn't actually care, and goes back to his schoolwork. 

Isaac gets about a half-hour of work in before his concentration is broken again, this time by the sounds of Derek's frustration somewhere within the house. The sound of wood splintering and tools being thrown startles him out of his comfort zone, and he quickly packs his school bag up and heads for the woods. He walks the road through the preserve until he can't hear Derek's elevated heartbeat anymore, or the Alpha's angered, labored breathing. He doesn't let himself focus on any one thought, just walks and walks and walks. He spots a nice, quiet-looking clearing off the road a bit and thinks maybe he'll stop, sit, listen to the sounds of the woods and finish his work when the Camaro pulls up next to him and Isaac feels himself nearly jump out of his skin. He's instantly ashamed as Peter rolls down the window, face painted in utter amusement. He notices without really paying attention that it's a lot darker than it was when he left the porch of the ruined house.

“Need a ride?” From anyone else, the way the question was posed would have been humorous, but to Isaac, it sounds wrong coming from Peter.

“Uh, no, it's okay, I'm just...” he stops, fishing for an excuse, any reason to avoid getting in the car with Derek's creepy, murderer uncle. He can't come up with a good one. Peter's eyes roll, and Isaac hears the mechanism click as the he hits the auto-unlock on the door.

“Get in the car, pup,” the older Hale's voice grates on Isaac's nerves, that's for sure, and the teen bristles as he rounds the front of the car, getting in the passenger seat and closing the door harder than necessary.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbles, and Peter huffs quietly, rolling the windows back up as he starts along the wooded road at a relatively human speed. Isaac instantly begins fiddling with the radio presets, not surprised that Derek's preset stations are mostly classic rock and alternative. He punches the off button with a dissatisfied exhale of breath, ignores the amusement radiating off of the man driving, and the side-long glances that accompany it.

“Afraid of the silence?” Peter taunts after thirty seconds of car engine, wind whipping, gravel and leaves crunching, and Isaac thinks he might pull his hair out. He grumbles, doesn't want to admit that he's still not used to hearing everything, which he does, and sometimes that's too much for him, a little too existential or something; doesn't want to admit that just sitting and listening has sent him into panic attacks before.

The older man must hear something in Isaac's reluctance to answer; he grabs an iPod sitting in the cup holder, which is linked to the stereo by a thin cord, and passes it over to the teen. Isaac cradles it in his hands awkwardly for a second, looking between the device and Peter. He starts to ask, “Is this-”

“Mine? It definitely isn't Derek's.” That's all the response he gets, and really all he needs, before Isaac is investigating the music on the device. He restarts the last song that the man had been listening to and is mildly surprised when a remix of a mildly popular song comes pumping through the speakers. He must have laughed, because Peter's fingers are wrapping around the device, pulling it out of his hands faster than he can protest.

“Privileges revoked.” The song stops playing and the iPod is back in the cup holder as soon as he blinks. 

“Wait, sorry, I just wasn't expecting...” Isaac stops, frowning, and leans forward to press play on the device again. The music begins pumping through the car's speakers again and Isaac closes his eyes, letting himself get absorbed in it.

They reach the house less than a minute later, he can tell before the car even stops because the smell of charred wood is strong enough to his wolf-enhanced sense of smell that he can smell it even through the interior of the car.

He feels the engine shut down, but the music keeps playing, and he can feel Peter watching him for a few seconds before he opens his eyes.

“Sorry,” he mutters, reaching for the door handle, but stops when Peter scoffs.

“You apologize too much. Teenagers are supposed to be completely apathetic and unapologetic,” he tells Isaac as he gets out of the car, pops the trunk, pulls out bag after bag of groceries and hardware. Isaac finally gets out of the passenger seat, schoolbag slung over one shoulder as he accepts the bags being handed to him.

“Sorry, it's-” he stops and laughs once, embarrassed. He notices Peter is still listening, head turned just-so in his direction, attention on him, so he finishes, “It's reflex.”

The older Hale shuts the trunk of the car, and the quiet slam of it seems to reverberate through Isaac's ribs. Turning his attention to the teen fully, his mouth quirks in something resembling both a smirk and a smile.

“It doesn't suit you.”


	2. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so surprised at the amount of support this is getting already. You guys are awesome, thanks so much!
> 
> Here's chapter two, before I'm off to work. I don't really have anything else to add here, so enjoy!

Isaac follows Peter into the house at a distance, trying to wrap his head around...well, the whole day has been kind of off, now that he thinks about it. He sets the bags of groceries down onto the folding card table that serves as their dining room table and watches Peter file packages away into the small refrigerator and temporary storage cabinets; the kitchen is next on the renovation list, after the bedrooms. He considers asking the man if he needs help with anything, but decides against, it, turning away and heading back to the living room, where he tosses his schoolbag onto the couch and follows suit, throwing his body down onto the soft, worn cushions.

He senses Derek about two seconds before the Alpha comes into the room, and Isaac sits up, feeling the irritation practically rolling off of the man's body in waves.

“Where is he?” Derek asks, and before Isaac really has time to consider this question or the answer to it, Derek is already gone, and Isaac can hear their low voices in the kitchen. He's only picking up parts of their conversation, but he doesn't really want to hear, so he unzips his backpack as loudly as he can, emptying it's contents onto the floor before picking up each textbook, notebook, and loose-leaf assignment one at a time to drown out the sound of the men talking.

And it's still not distracting enough.

He can hear irritation in Derek's voice, along with a mass of other things. All he hears in Peter's tone is fake disinterest, fake innocence, fake, fake, fake...

With a groan, Isaac pulls out his phone and dials the first number in his recent calls, forces himself to focus on the ringing and not the family argument happening in the next room. He jumps when the ringing stops and Scott's voice answers, “Isaac? What's wrong?”

“Oh, uh, nothing's wrong,” he laughs, feeling a little guilty realizing that he never really calls Scott without a reason. Pulling at drawstrings hanging from his hoodie, he glances toward the kitchen, wondering if the other two can hear him. He doesn't care. “I'm just...kind of having trouble with this chem project, and I was wondering if you're not working at Deaton's tonight, if you could maybe help me out with it?”

The other teen is silent on the other line for a second longer than Isaac is comfortable with, before he hears Scott shifting uncomfortably, biting his lip. “Uh, well, I was actually supposed to hang out with Stiles tonight...I kind of promised, after I bailed on him the last five times...”

“Oh. Right, well, have fun then,” he stumbles over the words, giving his unfinished assignment a short glance. “Tell Stiles I said hi.”

“Wait, Isaac-” Scott adds quickly, hoping to catch the other before he hangs up. Isaac pauses, then sighs.

“Yeah?”

“Look, we're...we're going to be playing Black Ops 2 at my house tonight, if you...wanna come hang out with us.” To his credit, Scott doesn't sound unwelcoming, just unsure – unsure if Isaac is into that thing, or wants to hang out with him and Stiles – but it makes Isaac smile just a little.

“Yeah, actually...that sounds great. I'll, uh, head over there now.” He's trying to suppress his grin at this point, stuffing his homework back into his backpack with little care.

“Awesome. See you in a bit, then.” This time he hears Scott's smile through his voice, and knows for sure that he's not intruding on some exclusive Scott-and-Stiles-only-ritual-no-outsiders-welcome thing.

He ends the call and places his phone back into his hoodie pouch as he stands up, kicking his backpack to the side. He moves toward the front door automatically, but pauses, remembering that even if he doesn't have an actual family, he still has a pack, and they're close enough to the same thing. He shuffles his way toward the kitchen, keeping his chin tucked toward his chest and his eyes downcast as he reaches the doorway. Whatever argument Derek and Peter were having is apparently over, Peter is nowhere to be found, and Derek is sitting at the table, clenched fists resting on the surface.

“Uh,” Isaac starts, and Derek's gaze shifts toward him, brooding anger and deep thought interrupted. “I'm going over to Scott's to hang out for a while, I don't know...when I'll be back,” he mumbles, glancing toward the front door, and Derek sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Like we don't have more important things to worry about right now?” he frowns and shakes his head, looking like he wants to retract his statement. “Just...have a good time, or something.”

Isaac frowns, now more concerned for his Alpha than for his own stir-crazy needs.

“Is, uh, is everything okay? With you and Peter, I mean.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Isaac knows he's struck a nerve of some kind. Derek's expression shifts, and his fists clench and unclench a few times before he stands, looking like he might want to hit something. Isaac reflexively takes a few steps back, and Derek lowers his hands, looking instantly guilty.

“Sorry. It's nothing,” is all the response he gets at first, and then, “He just keeps pushing me – I'm doing what I can to fix up the house, but there are so many parts that are irreparable, and his smug attitude isn't helping.”

Derek sighs and sits back down in the folding chair he had previously occupied, deflating slowly. Isaac slowly moves forward and pulls out a chair, seating himself in it. The look his Alpha gives him is almost comical, full of confusion and a hint of incredulity. Isaac folds his hands on top of the table and looks at Derek, giving the older man his full attention. With a sigh and a shake of his head, the Alpha groans and leans forward, resting his weight on his elbows propped on the tabletop.

“He killed my sister. Even after everything, how am I supposed to trust him?”

“I don't know. That kind of trust, when it's broken...it can be hard to fix. Impossible, even.” Isaac is looking at his own folded hands, remembering bruises and blood and dried tears on cheeks. Derek glances up at the teen, patiently listening. Isaac shakes his head, heaving out a long-held breath, before looking at Derek again.

“I'm not saying you should trust him, because I don't know. I wasn't around for the crazy Peter incident that everyone loves talking about,” he says seriously, and Derek huffs a small laugh, rolling his eyes. “But he is your family. I guess what I'm saying is, give him time to try to redeem himself, without putting your faith in him blindly.”

Derek is giving Isaac a long, hard look, studying his expression. Finally, the older man sighs, twitching a hand toward the teen.

“Go see Scott,” he grumbles, only slightly perturbed that a member of his pack is going to visit someone who refuses to join it. Isaac flashes the Alpha one last, shy smile before he's out the door and down to all-fours, running through the woods of the preserve.


	3. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm a good portion of the way done with chapter four, here's chapter three.
> 
> I think I enjoy writing this story waaaay too much for my own good.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone for your support on this! You guys are so great! I love reading your comments. ;u; ♥

Isaac is standing on the front stoop of Scott's house, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, when the other teen opens the door. With a flash of a smile, Scott opens the door wider and steps aside.

“Hey man, come on in. Stiles isn't here yet, guess he had to stop for something,” Isaac listens to the vague explanation as he enters the house, glancing around. He hasn't really been in Scott's house before, and the whole thing seems very warm and welcoming. It's got an air that just says 'this is our home' and it makes Isaac feel odd; he hasn't had that feeling in a long time.

Scott is closing the door and Isaac is turning around to face him when a familiar Jeep comes screeching to a halt in the street in front of Scott's house. It parks where it stops, and Stiles nearly tumbles out of the drivers' seat, one arm cradling a twenty-four pack of soda, and the other carrying two filled-to-burst shopping bags of snacks. He sprints to the front door, grinning, but slows when he sees Isaac standing in the entry way next to his best friend. The smile falters.

“Uh, Scott? I don't mean to alarm you, but there seems to be something furry and distinctly wolfish in here. Other than you.”

Scott pulls him in by his sleeve, shutting the door behind him. “Yeah, uh, I figured it would be cool if Isaac came to hang out with us tonight.”

Isaac watches Stiles expectantly, waiting for the anger, the indignation, the rejection. He watches Stiles look him up and down quickly before he shrugs and pushes his way past both Scott and Isaac into the living room. “Yeah, sure.”

Scott follows his best friend, and Isaac trails after them slowly, still looking around, trying to take everything in. Stiles has set the soda and the snacks on the coffee table and is already fiddling with Scott's Xbox, ejecting whatever game is in it and putting his own in. He turns the TV on, then settles himself down into the couch, wiggling into the cushions with his entire body. The sight of it makes Isaac laugh softly, and Stiles only shoots him a vaguely irritated look. Scott flops himself down onto the couch beside Stiles, and gestures for Isaac to join them. He does, with no small amount of awkwardness, and watches as Stiles boots up the game, listens as Scott and Stiles catch up on the week's events, ranting to each other about everything.

It's nearly two hours, 12 cans of soda, two bags of chips, and multiple rounds of online co-op later (in which Stiles demonstrated his colorful vocabulary and plugged his microphone in long enough to tell one of the other players that the game wasn't meant for 10-year-olds, and wasn't it past his bed time?) that Stiles has given up on his new game and the three teens are watching a movie that Isaac has never seen before, about three guys on a treasure hunt that get lost in the wilderness. From the way that the other two had been reciting lines throughout the movie, Isaac gleaned that this must be a part of the Scott-and-Stiles ritual, but Stiles is slouched low on the couch now, chin tucked into his chest and beginning to snore. Scott is looking a little droopy eyed, but still staring at the screen, and Isaac gets the feeling that he hasn't been actually watching the movie for a while now.

He wants to check the time, wants to turn around and look at the clock, but he's afraid if he does, some part of the weirdly perfect night will be ruined. He knows he needs to get home – back to the Hale house – soon, and idly wonders if Derek is waiting up for him. Probably not.

The movie ends, and Scott is slipping the controller out of Stiles' hand and is turning off the game system. He stands with a stretch, yawning wide, and turns to face Isaac, who is pulling on the drawstrings of his hoodie again, but reluctantly turns his face up to meet the other wolf's gaze.

“Thanks for letting me come over,” Isaac says softly. Scott is all warm sleepy smiles and slightly messed up hair as he takes Isaac's hand and helps pull him up from the couch, a gesture which is entirely unnecessary, but one that speaks volumes to Isaac.

“No problem, man. You'll have to come hang out with us more,” Scott smiles that puppy-dog smile, and Isaac can't help but return it. “I'm really glad you came, Isaac. I mean, I know we don't talk much, and it's sort of awkward because of Derek, but-”

“No, it's okay. Derek wanted me to come tonight. I think he realizes that with Erica and Boyd not around...well, it's not like I have a lot of friends,” he shrugs and chuckles, but Scott doesn't seem to think it's that funny. “Anyway, I am really glad you invited me, and...well, thanks. Again.”

Scott smiles at him, nodding, and they move toward the door. Isaac's phone chimes, his text alert startling them both. The teen pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it, reads the message sent from an unfamiliar number:

Waiting outside when you're ready.

\- PH

Isaac glances to the door, sees the headlights of the Camaro parked in the street, and sighs. Scott moves to the door, looking through the window beside it, and growls low in his throat.

“I don't understand how Derek can just...welcome him back like that, after everything,” Scott says, and Isaac shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot. He hasn't heard the whole story, only bits and pieces of it from everyone involved, but put together it's enough to form a basic idea.

“He doesn't really want to,” Isaac mumbles, and Scott glances at him, attention still focused on the car outside. “He said so before I came here. I don't know the whole story, but...I don't know, maybe there's more to him than a psycho killer.”

Scott turns his attention away from the window to give Isaac a long, hard stare. “The guy tried to give my mom the bite so that I would join his pack. He almost killed Lydia, and he would have killed us if we hadn't gotten to him first. I really don't think there's much more to him.”

Isaac stuffs his phone back into his pocket and grabs at the door, managing to pull it open before Scott has a firm grip on his arm. He looks back at the shorter teen, unsure, but Scott's expression has turned to one of concern now.

“Just be careful, okay? I don't want you getting hurt,” Scott tells him, and Isaac's heart swells a little, feeling warm.

“I'll be careful,” he agrees, then adds, “I promise.”

Scott lets go of his arm, and Isaac is out the door and headed down the sidewalk to the street. When he reaches the Camaro, he pulls the passenger door open and slides in, watching Scott continue to stand in the doorway of his house as Peter puts the car into gear and drives away.

They're on the next block by the time Isaac looks at the clock on the dash, which reads 2:47am. He feels mildly guilty as he looks at Peter. “How did you...I mean, why did you come to pick me up?”

“Did you want to walk back through the woods by yourself with the hunters and the Alpha pack around?” is the only response he gets at first, and Isaac makes a sound at the back of his throat, a vague indication of his acknowledgment that the other is right, at least about this.

“How did you know when I was leaving, then?” Isaac is more accusatory this time, but Peter doesn't answer, just wordlessly hands Isaac his iPod again. The teen tries to convince himself that he's not that easily placated, but as he scrolls through the man's eclectic music collection, he knows it's not true.

Selecting a song, he sets the device back down into the cup holder and leans back in the seat of the car, closing his eyes. He didn't realize he was so tired, even though he feels he shouldn't be; he's a teenager and it's the weekend, after all.

He can feel Peter's eyes on him a few times during the drive, but he pointedly keeps his eyes shut tight, not interested in conversation. To his credit, Peter keeps quiet until they're parked in front of the Hale house. The music doesn't stop when the engine does, but Isaac opens his eyes slowly, looking at the burnt-out shell of a building tiredly. He doesn't feel Peter's eyes on him this time, and when he glances over, the man is staring at the house as well, expression unreadable. Isaac feels something that might be pity, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. He figures there is no reality in which Peter would want his sympathy, so he gets out of the car silently and moves toward the house, climbing the bowed steps of the porch two at a time and pushing the door open with ease.

Glancing back, he sees Peter still sitting the Camaro, staring. Isaac decides to let him brood, and shuts the door behind himself.

Derek is at the top of the stairs when he glances up them, and Isaac barely catches himself from falling over backward. He knows he shouldn't be so surprised, but his senses are all out of whack, and he pretends he's not trying to catch his breath as he crosses his arms on the banister, chin resting atop them.

“I didn't think you'd actually wait for me,” he tells the Alpha. Derek's gaze slides from Isaac to the shut door behind him, expression carefully blank.

“I wanted to make sure you got back okay,” Derek says, and Isaac can't help himself when he glances back at the door. He turns his attention slowly back to Derek, nodding silently toward the door, and Derek nods in affirmation, before jerking a thumb to a room in the upper part of the house. Isaac dutifully climbs the stairs and follows as Derek enters his room and shuts the door behind them, a mere illusion of privacy.

Derek's voice is low when he says, “Did he say anything to you?”

“No...? I mean, about what?” Isaac doesn't bother to mask his confusion, even as he keeps his voice low to match Derek's. The Alpha shakes his head, looking sideways at the floor in thought. The sound of the door opening downstairs catches both of their attentions.

“It's nothing,” Derek mutters, and he pushes the Beta gently back out of the room before closing the door again. Isaac can hear him moving on the other side of the door, the rustle of clothes followed by the creaking of the weak mattress springs. He's still staring at the closed door in confusion when Peter reaches the top of the stairs. The older man surveys him, amused.

“Lost?” he says, and Isaac glances at him, shaking his head a bit before moving to the next door down the hall. It opens with a creak, and he gives Peter a long, unsure look as he stands in the doorway to his designated room. The man finally says, “Good night, pup,” and Isaac enters his room, closes and locks the door, not caring if Peter hears the lock click into place.

He ignores the fact that he can still feel Peter standing in the hall, unmoving, as he removes his shirt, then his jeans, and climbs into bed in his boxers, pulling the covers over himself. He lays on his side, back to the door, breathing slowly and evenly for what feels like an eternity before Peter finally moves, entering Derek's room. Isaac hears the door click shut, and the rustle of clothes, and quiet, muffled conversation before silence settles over the house, and he lets himself fall into a deep sleep.


	4. Coexistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could apologize for eternity for how long it took for me to get this chapter out, but instead I'm just going to say I hope it was worth the wait! More coming soon! I promise!
> 
> ♥

When Isaac wakes up, it's to the smell of breakfast. He rolls over with a groan, squints at the sunlight streaming through his windows, and checks his phone. It's around ten, and his alarm has been shut off, even though he knows he had it set; he wanted to get up early to do his homework and maybe help Derek with repairs, if the Alpha felt like letting him.

He rolls out of bed and moves over to the three-drawer storage container that serves as his dresser, pulling out a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose jeans and pulling them on. He scrubs a hand through his hair and doesn't notice when he leaves his room that he doesn't have to unlock the door first.

Padding his way downstairs, he enters the kitchen area and sees Peter hard at work creating a full meal – waffles, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns – on the portable stove, and two places on the table set with plates, cups, and flatware. Sleep drunk, confused, and slightly alarmed, Isaac stops in the doorway and stares, watching the older man working wordlessly over the meal, quiet music playing out of the iPod dock sitting on the charred counter. 

Isaac doesn't know how long he's been staring, but he still startles a little when Peter asks, “Coffee or orange juice?”

The question shocks some movement into Isaac, and he reaches up to run a hand through his sleep-messed hair. “What?”

Peter loads two fresh waffles, a pile of hashbrowns, an egg, and some bacon onto one of the plates on the table, starts to move toward Isaac, but the teen takes a step back as the man steps forward, so he stops and points at the setting with his spatula instead. “What do you want to drink?”

Isaac looks between the plate full of food, the spatula, and Peter a few times before his stomach grumbles and he tries to hide his blush of embarrassment by rubbing at his face with his sleeve. “Coffee, please.”

He watches the other beta dig around in one of the cardboard boxes that houses their dishes for a moment before producing a mug, one of the ones that Erika stole from the local diner for them. Her name is scrawled in Sharpie on the bottom, and Isaac catches a glimpse of it before it's being set on the table, full of steaming, black coffee. Peter looks at him, surveying, but Isaac doesn't move to sit down until the other man has gone back to his cooking. Isaac picks up the mug of coffee and takes a long, heavy drink of the liquid, closing his eyes and enjoying the bitter taste and rich smell.

“I never guessed you'd be a coffee drinker,” Peter says. Isaac opens his eyes to find the man sitting across from him, plate loaded with food and his own cup of coffee in one hand. Isaac takes the time to set his cup down, pour syrup over his waffles, cut into them, then chew and swallow a large bite before answering.

“Looks like you guessed wrong,” is all he says, digging into his food with more vigor; now that he's had a bite, he realizes how hungry he actually is. Peter takes a bite of his own food, observing Isaac while he chews, but not in a particularly creepy way, and Isaac is thankful for this.

“I'm typically very good at reading people,” Peter remarks casually, but there's a hint of something behind the words that makes Isaac fumble his fork for just a second. He knows that Peter sees it, because the corner of the man's mouth twitches just so, and Isaac sets his fork down carefully to take another long drink of his coffee instead. 

When he sets his cup down, there are a dozen comebacks buzzing in his head, but he picks the one question he knows will bother Peter the most. “Where's Derek?”

“Out,” Peter replies quickly, flashing the teen a tense smile. Isaac frowns.

“Out where?”

“I don't know, I didn't ask. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself.” Isaac hates the fact that he feels like Peter is hiding something, even if his heartbeat is perfectly even when he speaks. He takes another bite of his breakfast, ignores Peter's gaze on him for as long as he can.

“Do you know when he'll be back?” He knows the answer before he asks, but still feels the need to. Peter's fingers twitch, the only indication of his irritation, but it's enough to give Isaac a sense of satisfaction. He knows that Peter knows just how much Isaac doesn't want to be alone with him, but he doesn't care.

“No, I don't,” Peter's tone is sharp, his words clipped, and they finish their meal in silence. When they're finished eating and Isaac is just using the last bite of his waffles to soak up the last of the yolks from his eggs, Peter begins clearing the table, moving dishes and pans to the sink. Isaac cleans his plate and stands with a stretch, reveling in the feeling of having a full stomach – a real, full meal, and probably the first he's had in a few weeks – before he brings his plate to where Peter is standing. Instead of just walking away this time, like he did with the groceries before, he lingers at Peter's shoulder as the man takes his plate and adds it to the stack in the sink that's slowly filling with soapy water.

“Thanks for breakfast,” Isaac mumbles, and Peter hums tonelessly in reply. “Do you need any help with the dishes?”

Peter turns the lever on the faucet, ceasing the flow of water, and glances over his shoulder at Isaac for a short moment before grabbing a towel from the counter and tossing it over his shoulder to the teen.

“Sure. I'll wash, you dry.”

Isaac takes his position to the right of the sink, watching as Peter carefully scrubs away the bits of food from the first dish and rinsing it under a small stream of cold water from the faucet before handing it off to Isaac. He dries the plate carefully before stacking it back into one of the cardboard boxes that holds all of their dishes. They continue this way until all of the dishes are washed and put away as well as they can be, and Isaac drapes the towel over the back of a folding chair to dry as Peter dunks his hand into the sink to remove the stopper and let the water drain.

Isaac watches the water level recede for a moment before stretching again, hands reaching far over his head as he yawns. He stops and drops his arm when he notices Peter eying him, an unnerving smirk on his face.

“So, uh,” Isaac starts to say, but stops as Peter steps forward and wipes his wet and soapy hands dry on the front of Isaac's shirt, patting his chest as Isaac stares, open-mouthed, down at his no-longer-clean shirt.

“Thanks for the help, pup,” the older man chimes as he saunters out of the room, leaving Isaac staring at the wet hand prints on his chest. After a moment, he pulls the shirt over his head and exits the kitchen, glancing around the house for Peter. He doesn't see the older man anywhere, so he darts up the stairs quickly, shutting and locking the door to his room behind himself before going to look for a new shirt.

Re-dressed, he grabs his backpack before exiting his room and heading downstairs to the living room. Finding the space unoccupied, he throws himself onto the couch and unzips his backpack, pulling out a textbook and a notebook with a pencil shoved into the spiral. He takes another minute to load Pandora on his phone before starting in on his trigonometry homework, copying problems from his textbook into the notebook and working through them, occasionally flipping to the calculator on his phone to work through part of a problem.

He's nearing the end of his Trig homework when he hears the rumble of an engine that he's not familiar with. It isn't the Camaro or the Jeep, and Isaac swears his heart skips a beat as he sits up a little straighter on the couch. He opens his senses, but he's too shaken by the rumble of the car approaching the house. As it rolls to a stop in front of the house and the engine cuts, he senses Derek suddenly, and with only a little bit of shake in his knees, stands and pads to entry way. He opens the door a crack, peeking out, before swinging it wide and stepping out onto the porch, watching as Derek exits this foreign vehicle.

“What happened to the Camaro?” Isaac finds himself wondering out loud, and Derek retrieves a pile of broken-down cardboard boxes from the trunk of the car before approaching the house.

“Traded it in,” he answers simply, passing half of the pile to Isaac, who stares at the boxes blankly as he follows Derek inside. The Alpha passes the other half of the pile to Peter, who has since materialized (or at least that's what it seems like) in the entryway. “Pack your stuff up, we've got a new place.”

“Wait, what?” Isaac asks, suddenly feeling like he's missed a huge part of a conversation.

“So you found a place after all?” Peter asks, and Isaac realizes that his initial feeling was right. He had missed a huge part of a conversation, after all.

“You knew about this?” He accuses, rounding on Peter without warning, lip starting to curl in a snarl. The older beta doesn't speak, just rolls his eyes and looks at Derek.

“The renovations...aren't working out,” the alpha explains quietly, tone gentle despite the hard look he gives his beta. “There's an apartment on the other side of town, you'll be closer to school and we'll all be able to do a better job of keeping an eye on each other.”

Isaac shifts his weight from foot to foot, expression more calm as he looks between the two older men. “Are we running from something? The alpha pack?”

“We're not running,” Derek assures, folding his arms over his chest. “It's something I've been considering for a while. Now go pack your stuff up, if we're lucky, we can get everything moved over by tonight.”

Isaac hesitates for a moment before retreating up the stairs to his room, shutting the door behind himself and dropping the pile of boxes on his bed. He sighs and leans against the wood of the door, listening to the low buzz of Derek and Peter's voices in the hall downstairs.


	5. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! I finished chapter five within a reasonable time frame!
> 
> Things are really going to pick up in the next few chapters, it's been a lot of work laying the foundation for where I want things to go.
> 
> Thanks for hanging on for the ride, hope you all enjoy the new chapter!

It doesn't take Isaac very long to pack his few belongings. After Derek brings a roll of tape to him in his room, he tapes his make-shift dresser shut and packs what few personal objects he has into two boxes. He's finishing up taping the last box up when the familiar rumble of Stile's Jeep interrupts his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

He hears the teen bounce in through the front door, calling, “Sourwolf! Hey! I'm here to help you move your shit!”

Isaac opens his bedroom door, peeking out as Derek opens the door across the hall, glaring down the stairs at Stiles with a little less anger than usual. The alpha grabs a stack of boxes and almost glides effortlessly down the stairs, handing a few of them off to Stiles.

“Hey, whoa, I can't carry this much. Derek? Hey!” Isaac glances down the stairs but looks back toward Derek's room when he hears a shuffle. Peter is laying on one of the mattresses just inside the room, arms folded under his head and a pair of expensive-looking studio headphones on. Isaac stares for a minute, glancing down the stairs again to make sure Derek is still outside with Stiles, before he crosses the hall into the other bedroom.

His bare feet don't make that much noise on the floor, but he's sure Peter can still hear him approach, there's a slight shift in his position, muscles tensing under a shirt that Isaac is thinks must be a couple sizes too small. Peter's eyes open suddenly and Isaac jumps, immediately frowning at himself for reacting like a scared puppy. Peter smirks as he pulls off his headphones, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Need something, pup?” Peter asks, and to Isaac's surprise, it doesn't sound patronizing. For once, the man actually sounds genuine, which throws the teen off a bit.

“Uh,” he reaches up and scratches his arm, looking sideways, taking in parts of the room he's never actually looked at before. Peter watches him, tries to wait patiently for an answer, but ends up sighing loudly and standing up before Isaac can really collect himself.

“Look,” the older man starts to say, but cuts himself off as Stiles comes thundering up the stairs, whipping into the room like a small tornado.

“Derek said to bring the beds down so we can strap them to the top of the Toyota,” he says mostly to Isaac, glancing at Peter a few times, if only to glare at the man suspiciously. “And, uh, if there's anything else you want packed, you should do it soon.”

“Boyd's books are downstairs,” Isaac says a bit numbly. Stiles nods animatedly before darting across the hall into Isaac's room.

“Hey, you want me to bring this stuff down to the car?” the human calls at an unnecessary volume, and Isaac moves around Peter to grab the mattress the older man had been laying on a minute ago.

“Yeah, thanks,” Isaac replies as he hoists the mattress up, pausing to look at Peter, who has grabbed a box and a roll of tape from the corner.

“I'll pack the books while you take the beds down,” the older beta says in answer before disappearing down the stairs. Stiles comes out of Isaac's room, arms full with the two boxes and organizer-turned-dresser, and with a concerned look, jerks his head toward the direction of the stairs. Isaac simply shakes his head, mouths 'later' and moves down the stairs and out the door with the first mattress.

Derek is waiting by the Toyota, and takes the mattress from Isaac before the teen even makes it off of the porch, tossing it on top of the car with a ridiculous amount of werewolf ease. Isaac puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels as Derek turns back around.

Stiles comes almost tumbling out of the door, and Derek catches a box as it slips from his grip. The human grins at him sheepishly, moving to put the boxes in the back of his Jeep, taking the other box from Derek and packing it in as well.

“So, you're gonna pay me for this, right?” Stiles asks, making a show of dusting his hands off on his jeans. Derek fixes him with a stare and Isaac laughs. Stiles shifts, looking between the two. “Or, uh, you know. You can just repay me later.”

“I'll take you to dinner as payment,” Peter chimes from the doorway, a box in his arms. Stiles' nose crinkles at the suggestion, arms crossing over his chest.

“Haha, very funny,” the teen snorts out, and Peter shrugs, passing the box to Isaac.

“Then I guess Derek will have to take you to dinner instead,” the older man disappears inside, and Isaac watches as Stiles' face turns an interesting shade of red. He quickly passes the box off to Derek, who has gone rigidly silent, before fleeing back into the house. He can hear Stiles stumbling over his words and kicking little pieces of gravel around as he attempts to change the subject, the sound fading a little as he moves back up the stairs.

Peter is standing at the top with Isaac's mattress held firmly, and Isaac wonders briefly if he should side-step or move backwards to be out of the older man's way. He does neither, instead putting both hands on either bannister of the stairs and looking up at Peter.

“We're not running, right?” He asks, knowing that Derek is just distracted enough by Stiles to not hear the question from outside. Peter scoffs and folds his arms over his chest, letting the mattress lean up-right against the wall.

“You tell me. Did your senses tell you Derek was lying before?” Peter's heartbeat is level, his breathing even, and Isaac is a little frustrated by this.

“No, but-”

“Then why are you asking me, pup?” Peter gives the mattress a push with his foot and it slides down the stairs towards Isaac, who catches it and looks up at him again.

“Because Derek's my alpha. He knows how to keep things from me if he wants to,” he picks the words carefully, never breaking eye contact with Peter. The older man's eyebrow raises slightly, and his arms drop to his sides.

“You think I can't hide things from you?” His tone is skeptical and amused. Isaac holds his ground and digs his nails into the mattress.

“I think you can, but I don't think you will,” is his carefully chosen answer. He resists a victorious smile as Peter's smirk falters just a little and his breathing catches for a millisecond. His smug mask is back before he turns to head back up the hall for the last mattress.

When the Toyota and Jeep are packed, Derek instructs Stiles to follow him to the apartment, and while Isaac wants to be near his alpha – he still has unanswered questions about the move – he can't bring himself to get into the tightly-packed vehicle with both of the Hale men. He chooses to hitch a ride with Stiles, and they're not even out of the reserve before Stiles rounds on him.

“What's with you and Peter?” The Jeep jerks a bit to the right as Stiles turns to look at the other teen. Isaac grips the handle above the door of the vehicle and glances between Stiles and the narrow gravel road running through the woods.

“What?” he decides to play stupid for now, giving Isaac the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster. The human isn't fooled and he indicates this by giving Isaac one of the hardest looks he's ever seen on Stiles' face.

“Scott told me he picked you up from his house the other night,” his tone is less inquisitive and more severe now, and Isaac has to force himself to keep eye contact instead of evading the others' gaze.

“What's your point?”

“My point is,” Stiles pauses briefly as they follow Derek's Toyota turning onto the main road outside of the reserve, “He's dangerous, Isaac. If he's trying to drag you into something...”

Isaac looks out the window beside him as Stiles trails off, and huffs a quiet sigh through his nose, chewing the inside of his cheek. He can feel Stiles glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, so he turns his attention back to the driver.

“I don't know what he's doing, okay? He's just...I can't ever tell what he's thinking, and I don't trust him. So relax.”

Stiles nods after a minute, seeming to process this information, chewing on his lip in thought. Isaac stares at him for a while longer, absentmindedly tugging at the cuffs of his shirt sleeves with his fingers. They drive another mile in with just the quiet hum of the radio in the background before Isaac's curiosity gets the better of him, and he asks, “What did he even do, anyway? I mean, I've heard bits and pieces of the story from you, Derek, and Scott, but...”

Stiles glances at him again, mouth set in a hard line as he seems to consider answering the question. Finally, he reaches over and switches off the radio, fingers twitching on the steering wheel nervously.

He tells Isaac everything.


	6. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to pick up finally! A few notes this time around:
> 
> Peter being a fan of The Cure was an idea taken from [theaeblackthorn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theaeblackthorn) and her story [10.15 Saturday Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/639142), which is a great story (and also the first Pisaac fic I read!).  
> This chapter brought to you by [this song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mWRsgZuwf_8).
> 
> Mentions of past abuse in this chapter, but...that's sort of to be expected from a fic involving Isaac.
> 
> Lastly, I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for your support and patience!

When they arrive at the apartment and begin to unpack things, Isaac sees Peter in a whole new light. One that, in his unspoken opinion, actually explains a lot. He doesn't say anything to the man about it immediately, instead focusing on helping Derek and the others get everything unpacked.

By the time they're finished, Derek has retreated to his room and Isaac has sprawled himself out on the new couch in the studio-style apartment while Stiles makes dinner. Peter, who has apparently claimed the kitchen as “his space” is buzzing around Stiles, directing him on how to chop, stir, mix, and various other instructions. Isaac huffs a little laugh as Stiles growls in frustration and flings a spoonful of gravy at Peter, successfully splattering the older man with the sauce.

Peter comes out of the kitchenette a second later, peeling his long-sleeved shirt from his body in a way that makes Isaac shift uncomfortably, although he's not really sure why. He watches as Peter fishes another shirt – a short-sleeved one this time – out of a box to the side of the main living room and pulls it on. Isaac tries to pretend he doesn't notice how the shirt hugs the man's muscles. Peter catches him staring and quirks an eyebrow questioningly, so Isaac tries to avoid his gaze. This works briefly, until Peter takes a seat beside him on the couch, directly in his line of sight.

“Penny for your thoughts, pup?” Isaac feels himself twitch at the unpleasant nickname but gives nothing away otherwise. He shakes his head, folding his arms over his chest as he leans back against the armrest of the couch, knees bent and feet on the middle cushion; keeping Peter at the far end.

“Just thinking about something Stiles told me,” he says, and it's not untrue, he thinks, his heart rate level. His chest feels odd, though, constricted, and he moves his arms up to his knees, resting his chin on them as he looks across the couch at the older man. “Do you ever miss being an alpha? I mean, you went through so much to become one in the first place.”

Peter's mouth twitches into something resembling a smile and he leans back further into the couch, looking up at the ceiling.

“So that's what you two were discussing,” he says in a low tone. Isaac thinks that's all he's going to say until after another long minute, he answers, “I suppose I do.”

“Would you ever try to do it again?” Isaac bites his cheek, frustrated at himself for not staying his curiosity even a little bit. Peter glances at him out of the corner of his eye, shrugs.

“I killed my niece the last time,” he says lightly, as if he's completely unaffected by this, and maybe he is. “Who do you think I'd have to kill this time around?”

Isaac considers this, even as Peter stands and moves toward the series of shelves that Derek modified into a sort-of entertainment center. Isaac had been surprised to notice that the first thing Peter bothered to bring into the apartment (and set up) was the stereo. Peter pulls his iPod out of his pocket and plugs it into the stereo, selecting a playlist and hitting play before returning to the couch.

Isaac looks at him curiously as a song he doesn't recognize begins to play, the volume low but the sound perfectly clear to his wolf senses. He tilts his head in curiosity, gaze still fixed on the older man, who has shut his eyes and seems to be in a perfect state of relaxation. Isaac decides to break his concentration.

“What is this?” he asks quietly, and Peter doesn't move, doesn't seem to hear him, but Isaac knows he has, and he waits patiently for the answer.

“It's before your time,” Peter finally says, fingers tapping along to the drum beat on his knee. Isaac watches the man's fingertips connect with his jean-clad leg with fascination. “The band is called The Cure, they've been around since the seventies.”

Isaac nods, looking toward the stereo again, then shifting his weight a bit. He fidgets again before Peter sighs and sits up straight, looking at him.

“Sit back and close your eyes,” he instructs, and Isaac stares at him for a minute before doing as he's told, letting his eyes flutter shut as he relaxes into the couch. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly; clear your mind, and listen.”

Isaac follows the directions he's given again, letting himself relax, feeling the weight of his muscles ease as the tension of the day seeps out of him slowly at first then all at once. He rests his temple against the cushions on the back of the couch and breaths slowly and deeply, listening to the dark, drawling tones of the music.

The song is almost over when Stiles comes into the room, preceded by the sound of his awkward, uneven footsteps. The teen pauses, seeing the two lounging, looking almost asleep on the couch, before he clears his throat louder than necessary.

“Dinner's done. I'm, uh, I'll go tell Derek,” Isaac can hear the frown in his tone before he sees Stiles' disproving expression as he disappears up the small set of spiral stairs.

Isaac looks at Peter, who hums lowly at him and makes a shooing gesture with his hand. Isaac stands and stretches, padding into the kitchen to get dinner as Peter takes his space on the couch, stretching out fully and claiming the whole thing for himself.

Isaac is dishing himself up a large plate of beef stroganoff when Stiles and Derek enter the kitchen, the latter looking more worn out than Isaac has seen him in a long time. The two are having a quiet discussion between themselves, so Isaac grabs a fork and slides past them out into the living room again, where he sits on the second couch opposite of where Peter is still laying and begins digging into his meal.

He is raising his third bite of food to his mouth when he looks up at Peter, who hasn't moved since Isaac sat down; the man is stretched out, one arm curled under his head and the other draped over the side of the couch, and as Isaac pauses to listen to his breathing and heart rate, he realizes that Peter is asleep.

He laughs quietly and finishes his meal, returning the plate to the kitchen where Derek and Stiles are sitting, eating and talking. He leaves the plate in the sink and excuses himself, although the two barely notices, and moves back across the apartment and up the spiral stairs. He ducks into the first room on the left, the one that was decided would be his, and grabs one of the blankets that have been folded and piled onto his unmade bed.

Isaac descends the stairs two at a time, keeping his footfalls light and quiet. When he re-enters the living room, Peter hasn't moved, and Isaac can't help the half smile that he feels form on his lips. For someone who is supposedly a vicious sociopath, the man looks surprisingly harmless like this, and Isaac entertains this thought as he spreads the blanket over the man. He unhooks the iPod from the stereo and leaves it on the coffee table near Peter before ascending the stairs and retreating into his room for the night.

He collapses on his bed without making it or changing clothes first, and lazily curls a blanket around himself; he falls asleep before he can even get comfortable.

It's around two in the morning when Peter is startled awake by the screams. His instincts pull him from the couch and up the stairs before his mind can fully process what's going on, and he's met in the hall by Derek, who has come out of his room looking just as alarmed and sleep-muddled as Peter feels.

“Isaac,” Derek says, voice roughened by sleep, and Peter beats the alpha to the teen's door, pushing it open and entering quickly. He hesitates once inside, taken slightly aback by the image before him; Isaac tangled in the blanket wrapped around him, pale and sweating, eyes wide with terror. The screaming has stopped, and Peter senses Derek frozen in the doorway behind him, so he moves forward, dropping to his knees beside Isaac's bed. The beta's heartbeat is running wild, but his breathing is beginning to slow as Peter places a gentle hand on the teen's shoulder. The three sit quiet for a long minute before Isaac runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, heaving a sigh.

“I'm fine,” he breathes out, and Derek snorts in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Isaac takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and shakes his head. “I'm fine, go back to bed.”

Peter raises an eyebrow at the teen but doesn't budge. Derek narrows his eyes, watching the two for a minute before turning and retreating back into his room, shutting the door behind himself. Isaac looks at Peter expectantly, suddenly very aware of the man's hand on his shoulder.

“I'm fine,” he tries again, but Peter scoffs and stands, offering a hand to the teen. “What?”

“Come on,” the elder insists, wiggling his fingers until Isaac takes his hand and lets Peter help him stand. Peter drops Isaac's hand from his grip and turns to exit the room, not checking to see if the younger will follow him.

Isaac does indeed follow a few feet behind him, taking the metal stairs slowly as the descend into the living room. Peter leads Isaac to the couch and gestures for him to sit, but the teen continues to stand, confused.

“Sit,” Peter orders, placing his hands on the teen's shoulders and pushing gently until the younger beta finally relents and takes a seat on the couch. He watches with interest as Peter disappears into the kitchen, then takes the blanket draped over the back of the couch and wraps it around himself. It's unseasonably cold for autumn, and the temperature in the apartment is lower than it has any right to be. Isaac, still damp from the cold sweat of his nightmare, shivers and burrows further into the blanket, ignoring the fact that it's covered in Peter's scent.

The older man returns a few minutes later, a steaming mug in hand. He passes it to Isaac and sits on the far end of the couch from where the teen is, watches as he sips at the hot chocolate. The young wolf's nose wrinkles after his first sip, and his licks his lips, looking questioningly at the mug of hot liquid.

“Is there...alcohol in this?” he takes another sip, eyes on Peter this time, and the older man nods.

“Coconut rum. Just drink it, it'll help calm you down,” Isaac looks into the mug again, notices the generous spray of whipped cream on the top, and can't help the small smile that spreads across his face. He drinks from the mug a few more times before leaning his head back, arms resting on his knees, drink gripped lightly between his fingers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter ventures, and Isaac notices the small amount of hesitance in the question. He shakes his head, taking another long drink of the hot chocolate and draining the mug completely. Peter takes the mug from him and places it on the coffee table, sitting back again to look at Isaac. 

The teen closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and just when Peter thinks he's stopped breathing completely, he says, “My dad. He used to, uh, hit me.”

Peter is quiet, waiting patiently for Isaac to say more, and finally he continues, “When I was thirteen, he started locking me in a freezer, in our basement. He's only been dead a few months, but, I can't-”

He stops, choking on the words, and takes another deep breath; this time he lets it out wordlessly. The brief explanation is enough for Peter to get the idea, and he sighs, running a hand through his own hair and looking at the ceiling. Isaac pulls the blanket closer around himself, tries not to breathe in the scent of the other man and fails.

They sit in silence for a while longer before Isaac shifts and stands, looking at Peter.

“I, uh...I should go back to bed,” he mumbles, and the older beta nods slowly, feeling sleep creeping in at the edges of his consciousness. “Thanks for the hot chocolate.”

“Goodnight, pup,” the soft reply is punctuated by a yawn from the older man, and Isaac smiles a little, moving to remove the blanket from where it's still wrapped around his shoulders. Peter waves a hand at him, stretching back out on the couch. He cushions one arm under his head and closes his eyes. “Keep it. I'm not much of a blanket guy.”

Isaac raises an eyebrow at the small jump in heart rate, the telltale sign of a lie, but decides not to question it and heads back up the stairs and into his room. He falls asleep to the faint scent of cologne, coffee, and the burnt-out earthy scent that is uniquely Peter, and sleeps a dreamless sleep.


	7. Defiance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't really have any notes this time! Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for sticking around! ♥

When Isaac wakes up, it's to the murmur of voices in the living room below him. He takes his time stretching and pulling himself out of bed, and - still dressed from the night before - he wraps himself up in the blanket he slept with and drags it down the spiral stairs into the main area of the apartment. Sunlight is filtering in through the large windows and lighting up the room, and he pauses at the bottom of the stairs, squinting a little at the sudden increase in brightness.

Once his eyes adjust, he sees Scott and Stiles sitting in the living room, talking over plates full of eggs, bacon, and hash browns. Derek is across the room, leafing through a dusty leather-bound book, quietly relaying information to someone over the phone. Isaac quietly pads his way toward Scott and Stiles, the human of the duo spotting him first and waving him over.

“Hey, Isaac! Glad you're awake, the food was starting to get cold,” Stiles points to a plate of food sitting on the coffee table beside a cup of dark coffee. The beta smiles and yawns, moving closer to the pair, when suddenly Scott goes stiff, turning slowly towards Isaac, sniffing at the air. Stiles raises an eyebrow comically high, and Isaac moves to sit on the couch across from them, picking up the plate of food and digging into it. Scott is still staring at him strangely when he pauses to take a large gulp of luke-warm coffee.

“Uh, Scott?” he asks, voice still gravelly with sleep, and the other wolf frowns at him. “What's the matter?”

“Why does that blanket smell like Peter?” Scott asks slowly, trying not to make any unfounded accusations, and Stiles almost spits out the large drink of orange juice he has just taken.

“Wait, what?” the human teen rounds on the boy sitting next to him. Isaac takes another bite of bacon, looking between the two, and takes his time to chew and swallow before answering.

“He was using it last night,” Isaac replies to Scott's question just as slowly, deliberately, tone revealing nothing. Stiles seems to take this as bad news and groans, throwing himself back against the couch cushions. Isaac finally breaks face and laughs, shaking his head.

“He was sleeping on the couch, I had a nightmare, came downstairs to get a drink, and ended up taking it back to bed with me accidentally,” he explains briefly, leaving out the details of Peter coming to his aid at his bedside and making him a cup of hot chocolate spiked with rum to calm his nerves. Stiles' and Scott's expressions shift slowly at first, then all at once into looks of relief. Isaac tilts his head at them and asks, “Why?”

“No reason,” Scott says quickly, beginning to shovel food into his mouth at a rapid pace, as Stiles takes another long drink of orange juice. Isaac squints at the two.

“What, you didn't think we slept together or something, did you?” He asks through a laugh, tone pure skepticism. Both of the boys remain silent a beat too long, and Isaac chokes on a bite of his hash browns. “Seriously, guys?”

Scott and Stiles both chuckle nervously, falling silent as Derek approaches the group and takes a seat next to Isaac, leaning back into the couch cushions with a sigh. Isaac calms down a bit in the presence of his alpha and continues to eat his meal silently while Scott and Stiles discuss something school related.

Isaac finishes his food shortly and sets his plate on the coffee table. He looks at the spot where he had placed Peter's iPod the night before, and suddenly aware that it and a few of the boxes that had been stacked near the wall were missing, turns to look at Derek.

“Where's Peter?” his tone is pure curiosity. Derek is unfazed by the question and Isaac ignores the looks that Scott and Stiles level him with.

“He went home,” Derek says, then adds in a relieved tone, “Finally.”

“Home?” Stiles is the curious one this time, and Scott pays rapt attention to the conversation, also interested.

“He has an apartment downtown,” Derek explains, lifting his head from where it's resting against the back of the couch to look at Stiles, seemingly ignoring the other two. “Did you seriously think I'd let him live here?”

Stiles' patented shrug-nod is a fair indicator that, yes, that's exactly what he thought. Derek scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against the couch cushions once more. Isaac pulls his legs up onto the couch, closing his eyes and snuggling into the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and ignores Stiles' sharp hiss of breath from the couch across from them. He keeps his eyes closed, relaxing into the corner of the couch as Stiles suddenly stands up, dragging Scott up with him.

“Derek! Can we talk to you?” the two teens drag the alpha outside of the loft, and far enough away that Isaac can't hear whatever it is they're discussing. Isaac waits until they've been gone for a few minutes before he reaches beneath the blanket and removes his phone from the pocket of his jeans. He flips through his recently received messages, finds the one from the other night when he was at Scott's house, and opens it.

_Waiting outside when you're ready._

_\- PH_

Isaac taps a button and opens a reply window, typing out a message slowly. He pauses, erases it, then writes something else before hitting send.

_What are you doing today?_

He sets the phone down and picks up his now cold cup of coffee, taking a drink and wrinkling his nose at the temperature of the bitter liquid. He almost drops the cup when his phone chimes. Setting the mug down quickly, he fumbles picking up his phone and opens the received message.

_What's wrong?_

_\- PH_

Isaac can't help the amused quirk that pulls at his lips, typing out a reply slowly. He pauses again, looking at his abandoned cup of cold coffee, adds another line, and hits send.

_Nothing. Bored. Wanna get coffee?_

He holds his phone this time, staring at the open conversation eagerly awaiting a reply. After a few minutes, when one doesn't arrive, he sighs and pockets his phone. Removing himself from the couch, he treads back up the stairs and into his room, where he sheds the blanket and his shirt from the night before, pulling on a new one. As he's about to leave his room, his phone chimes again, and he quickly pulls the device from his pocket to check the message.

_Sure. Meet you in half an hour._

_\- PH_

He makes sure that he memorizes the address for the coffee shop that Peter had included in the message before pulling on socks and shoes and retreating back down the stairs. Derek and Stiles have come back into the apartment without Scott - Isaac assumes the other has left - and are sitting beside each other on one of the couches, pouring over the book that Derek had been looking at that morning, occasionally leaning across each other to grab a pen or paper or to point at something on one of the other various sheets of notes surrounding them.

Isaac clears his throat softly, smirking when they both look up suddenly, apparently not having noticed him enter the room.

“I'm going out,” he says more to Derek than to Stiles, but the teen is the first to raise a question.

“Where? With who?” Isaac raises an eyebrow, still smirking as he pulls on a hoodie draped over the back of a chair and slings his backpack over his shoulder.

“I'm just going to get a cup of coffee and do some schoolwork. I'll only be gone a couple of hours,” he explains, moving toward the door, but Stiles objects again.

“Do you have your phone? Call us if anything happens, got it?”

Isaac can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips past his lips, accompanying the smirk which hasn't fallen at all.

“Yes, mom,” he calls over his shoulder mockingly as he exits the loft, sliding the large metal door shut behind himself. He ignores Stiles' shout of, “Smart ass!” as he takes the steps two at a time down to the first floor of the building.

The coffee shop is easy enough to find, tucked in between a tattoo parlor and a record store in downtown Beacon Hills, and when Isaac gets there and realizes that he is incredibly early, he orders a hot chocolate and takes a window seat facing the door. He watches people come and go from the shop while pulling out his English homework and laying it out on the table. Opening his book, he picks up a pencil and begins taking notes on a piece of paper, and continues this way for several minutes before the door chimes and he looks up, sensing Peter almost immediately. He watches as the older man places his order, then joins Isaac at the table, bringing the steaming cup of coffee with him.

Isaac moves to fold his book shut, but Peter grabs his wrist to stop him. “Homework?”

“English,” Isaac nods as Peter sits back, looking across the table at the teen like he was seeing him for the first time. “We're studying mythology. I have to pick a myth and write a paper about it by Friday.”

The older man hums, taking a sip of his coffee and looking at the book sitting open in front of Isaac. When he looks back up, Isaac is watching him, but doesn't seem to notice that he is.

“Have you chosen a myth yet?” Peter breaks the silence, watching with interest as the teen licks his lips before looking back down at the book. He flips a few pages backward and points with the end of his pencil while picking up his hot chocolate to take a sip. Peter waits for Isaac to put his drink down and explain.

“I was considering this one, the story of Persephone, but I'm having a hard time with it,” the teen says, flipping a few pages again before looking back up at Peter, who was nodding. “Do you know it?”

“It's one of my favorites,” Peter replies honestly, and Isaac raises an eyebrow. The older man continues, “All myths and legends served a purpose in ancient times. People used them to explain, to teach, to and to warn. The story of Persephone, or, the story of Demeter's sorrow, was used to explain the separation of the seasons.”

Isaac is still watching intently as Peter raises his cup of coffee to his mouth to take a long drink. When he lowers it again, the older man wets his bottom lip, watching as Isaac's gaze focuses on his mouth. They stay in silence for a while, both indulging in their drinks, until Isaac drains his cup of hot chocolate and forces his attention to the book in front of him, tapping his pencil on it as he tries to focus on the words on the page. He hears the clink of porcelain against the table top and looks up to see that Peter has also finished his drink, and is reaching across the table to grip the book, pulling it slowly out of Isaac's hands. Isaac keeps his gaze focused on Peter's the entire time, until the older man folds the book shut and rests his hands on it. Isaac huffs a small laugh and looks down at the notebook in front of him.

“Okay, so, tell me about Persephone,” he goads, and Peter obliges with a smile. 

He tells Isaac about how Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, goddess of the harvest. Hades, god of the dead, was so enraptured with Persephone's beauty, that he lured her away from her loved ones using the beauty of the narcissus flower, kidnapped her, and took her to the underworld to be his bride. Without Persephone, no new vegetation grew on the earth, which turned cold and lifeless. When Zeus found out about what his brother, Hades, had done, he sent his messenger Hermes to order that Persephone be allowed to return to her mother's side, so that the earth may begin to grow anew. Before she was allowed to leave the underworld, Hades made Persephone eat the seed of a pomegranate, ensuring that she would have to return to him. When Persephone returned to Demeter, she told her mother of the pomegranate seed that she had eaten, and Demeter, knowing that this meant she could not keep her daughter by her side, allowed Persephone to return to Hades in the underworld, striking the land into a cold, slumbering death once a year.

By the time that Peter finishes the story, Isaac has gotten them both a second drink, which they both sip at as Isaac jots notes down per Peter's instructions. They both pause momentarily as Isaac's phone buzzes and chimes in his pocket. With a frown, he pulls the device out and checks the received messages. His frown deepens as he pockets the phone again.

“Something the matter?” Peter asks around the rim of his coffee mug, and Isaac shakes his head, picking his pen back up, although the frown hasn't left his face.

“Derek,” Isaac mutters, dropping his pen again and sighing. Peter sighs, lowering his mug to the table.

“He's worried about you,” it isn't a question, more of a statement, and Isaac nods, still frowning.

“I mean, it's nice, but everyone is acting like you're-” Isaac stops and glares down at his notebook. Peter's expression shifts slowly to one of irritation, and Isaac looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of it before his expression melts back into something neutral.

“Isaac,” the older man begins, but the teen shakes his head, stuffing his notebook and pen back into his backpack before zipping it up.

“Peter,” the teen retorts, eyebrows raised as he looks at the man across from him. They stare each other down for a long moment before Peter lets out a soft laugh and gestures toward the door.

“Lets get out of here. I want to show you something.”

The pair stands, and Isaac heads for the door, waiting momentarily as Peter opens his wallet and drops a few bills into the the tip jar on the counter. Peter smirks as he moves past they teen, and Isaac exits the coffee shop a few feet behind him.


	8. Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter satisfies. Tension! Hooray!

To Isaac's surprise, they don't go far from the coffee shop; Peter leads him next door to the record store that Isaac hadn't really given a thought to when he had arrived. They're barely inside the shop when the clerk at the counter, reading a battered copy of The Rolling Stone, greets Peter by name and asks what he's in for today. Isaac stares blankly between the two as they share a short exchange about – from what Isaac can tell – recently released albums.

Before he realizes it, the conversation is over and Peter is leading him into the store, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder toward the many racks of vinyl records. When they stop at one, Isaac looks at Peter questioningly, raising a hand to point to the back of the store where he sees racks of CDs.

“Shouldn't we be back there?” Peter scoffs at the question, patting Isaac patronizingly on the back.

“Have you ever listened to a real record, Isaac?” the man asks, and Isaac shakes his head slowly, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Music wasn't a really big thing for me growing up,” the teen replies honestly, shrugging a bit even as Peter looks mildly horrified. Isaac stuffs his hands into his pockets and shuffles uncomfortably under Peter's gaze as the man pulls himself together and begins to guide Isaac through the section.

“Let's find a starting point, shall we?” Peter coaxes, starting at the beginning of the alphabet, and Isaac looks at the records, feeling completely lost. “What sort of music do you like?”

Isaac shrugs mutely, frowning, because suddenly he's very unsure. What kind of music does he like? Peter looks at him, waiting for an answer, for a solid minute before he begins to flip through albums, pulling out a few here and there and passing them over to Isaac, who looks at each one before accepting it and adding it to the growing pile in his arms. 

They work through a few rows this way, Peter pulling out albums, looking at them, and either putting them back or adding them to the stack – which has grown quite heavy, Isaac notes, and he's very thankful for his werewolf strength – and occasionally Isaac will look at one and ask the man a question about the band or the music, which Peter will always answer expertly.

Isaac has a stack of nearly twenty records in his arms when he finally begins to realize that maybe Derek's uncle is a little bit of a music fanatic. Which, he decides, it not necessarily a bad thing; it makes Peter seem more human to him, having real interests and passions, which makes Isaac smile a little. He's never seen the man quite so animated as he is now, describing the style and sound of the most recent record he's added to the pile in Isaac's arms. They're halfway through the the next row when Isaac pipes up over the top of the increasingly large pile of records, “You know I don't have a record player, right?”

Peter plucks another album from a rack, wrinkles his nose and puts it back before flipping through more. “I'm aware of this, yes.”

“So, uh,” Isaac looks at the pile, then back up at Peter, who has finally stopped perusing the racks to return Isaac's look.

“So I'll get you one, obviously,” comes the reply, and Peter's tone insinuates that, yes, this actually was obvious. Isaac can't help but raise an eyebrow at this, looking toward the boxes housing record players that line one wall of the shop, gaze focusing on a few of the price tags. He feels a bead of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

“That's,” he starts, stops, then continues, “Peter, this is a lot of money. I haven't exactly been raking in a lot of cash lately, what with actually going to school and making good grades instead of, you know, digging graves and stuff?”

The older man rolls his eyes and pushes Isaac toward the counter, where the clerk has been watching them with amusement. Isaac numbly notices that instead of the guiding hand being on his shoulder, this time, it's resting a little lower on his back as Peter leans close, voice almost a whisper, “That's why I said I will get it.”

Isaac quickly shuts his mouth to avoid any counter objections, even as he watches the cashier ring up the large pile of records, a wooden crate to store them in, and a brand new record player. He loses his breath when he hears the total, and has to grip the counter for a second to keep himself upright, because it's a lot more money than he had even thought. The older wolf, to his credit, doesn't bat an eyelash, merely hands the cashier a wad of bills and tells him to keep the change. Peter takes the crate of records and jerks his head toward the player, indicating for Isaac to pick it up, which he does, and they exit the shop.

Isaac can't help the momentary panic that sets in as he sees the position of the sun in the sky, his message tone on his phone chiming at the same time, and he balances the box in one hand to pull his phone out of his pocket. He blanches slightly at the received message, frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he reads it over and over.

“I need to get back,” Isaac says softly, turning his phone to show the message to Peter, who frowns at it as well. The older man nods after a moment, as Isaac tucks his phone back in his pocket.

“I'll give you ride. Come on, pup,” he says gently, leading Isaac to a car parked just little bit down the block, a black Lexus that Isaac had never seen before. Peter pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and presses a button on the remote, instantly unlocking the car and popping the trunk. He places the crate of records inside before taking the record player from Isaac and placing it beside the crate. He shuts the trunk with a soft click and moves around to the front, opening the door and beginning to get in when he notices that Isaac hasn't moved yet.

“Come on, pup,” he repeats, and Isaac seems to shake himself out of the daze he's in, moving around to get in the passenger seat.

The drive back to Derek's apartment is a quiet one, and much shorter than Isaac would prefer. When they reach the building and Peter parks, it takes some coaxing to get Isaac out of the car. Peter helps him take the records and player up, both deciding it would be better to take the elevator up to Derek's floor.

Isaac has barely gotten the door open and is stepping inside with the box cradled in his arms when Derek appears – apparently out of nowhere – and accosts Isaac with one of those looks.

“Where the hell have you been?” Isaac shrinks back slightly, bumping into Peter as the man approaches from behind. Avoiding Derek's gaze, the teen spots Stiles still perched on the couch in nearly the same position as when Isaac left, arms crossed and looking just about as irritated as Derek.

“No need to be so upset, dear nephew,” Peter taunts, nudging Isaac through the doorway and into the apartment. The older man sets the crate of records down just inside the door as the teen skirts his way around Derek, keeping his chin tucked into his chest and his gaze low as he slinks towards the stairs. “I was taking care of him.”

A low growl sounds in Derek's throat, the only warning given before he pins Peter to the nearest wall, hand at his throat and claws out, eyes flashing red. Isaac fumbles with the box, setting it down on the stairs before moving forward.

“Derek,” he starts, but stops, shrinking back again when Derek glances over his shoulder at the boy.

“Isaac, stay out of this,” he hears the growl, sees the hand tighten on Peter's throat. The older man simply looks unimpressed.

“If you're going to tear my throat out again, I'd encourage you to hurry up and get it over with,” Peter says as nonchalantly as he can with Derek's hand pressing on his trachea. Derek seems to ignore the taunt, save for increasing the pressure on his uncles' neck.

“Stay away from him,” the alpha growls, giving Peter one last look before releasing the man and shoving him toward the door. When Peter stumbles slightly, Isaac thinks it's only for show, but he pauses in the doorway to wave to the younger beta, a smirk on his face.

“See you, pup,” he snarks, ignoring Derek's threatening snarl as he exits the apartment, sliding the door shut as he goes.

It takes barely a second for Derek to round on Isaac, claws retracted but eyes still sharply red. The teen shrinks back again, stumbling on the stairs as he tries to put some distance between himself as his alpha.

“What were you thinking, Isaac? What if something had happened to you?” his tone is harsh, but Isaac can hear a trace of concern under it all. Stiles finally removes himself from the couch, closing the distance between himself and Derek and placing a steady hand on the alpha's shoulder, giving Derek a severe look. The alpha takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they're a human color. Isaac realizes that he's still waiting for an answer.

“I...he was helping me with my homework. I didn't think it was that big of a deal,” he says softly, eyes landing on the crate of records across the room.

“Isaac,” Derek says slowly, tone softer this time, and Isaac meets his eyes. “I don't want you getting too close to him. I don't trust him, and I don't know what his motives are. With Erica and Boyd still gone, we can't be too careful. Do you understand?”

Isaac nods, mulling over what his alpha is trying to tell him, but he feels a pit of rage rising in his throat as he thinks about Erica and Boyd. He clenches his teeth and levels his gaze on Derek, his anger keeping it steady.

“Yeah, and what about Erica and Boyd? Are you even trying to find them?” he accuses, and it's Derek that draws back this time, surprise and frustration contorting his features.

“Of course I am,” he shoots back sharply, but it doesn't quench Isaac's anger. He stops, trying to form his next sentence, but can't seem to find the words. Isaac laughs, shaking his head.

“Some alpha you are,” it comes out as almost a whisper, but he knows Derek hears it anyway. Grabbing the box from the stairs, he trudges up them, pushing open the door to his room with more force than necessary. He can hear Derek and Stiles having a discussion in low tones below him as he unpacks the record player and sets it up on top of one of the bookshelves he had brought with from the Hale house, one full of Boyd's books. He feels his chest tighten when he thinks about Boyd and Erica but tries to push the thoughts away.

When he returns to the lower level of the apartment, he finds Derek and Stiles gone, and can't help but be thankful for it as he grabs his crate of records and returns to his room. He flips through them, deciding on one and setting it onto the player before digging through one of his boxes of belongings, searching for the studio-style headphones that Erica had given him for his birthday, right before she and Boyd had gone missing.

With the headphones plugged into the player, he settles in on his bed and fiddles with his phone. He stares at the device for a long time before opening his text conversation with Peter. He stares even longer at the conversation before figuring out something to type.

_Sorry about Derek._

He hits send, and doesn't have to wait long for the reply.

_Don't apologize. He's probably right to not trust me.  
-PH_

Isaac frowns, begins to type a message, but is interrupted as he receives another message from Peter.

_I didn't get you into too much trouble, did I?  
-PH_

He erases what he had started to write, replaces it with,

_I think I got myself into more trouble than you did. I told him he was a bad alpha for not finding Erica and Boyd._

The reply comes quick, and Isaac can hear Peter's laugh, picture his smirk as he reads it.

_Ha. Wish I could have seen his face._  
Have you listened to any of that music yet?  
-PH 

Isaac smiles a bit, leaning back into his pillows and holding his phone up over his face as he types out his reply.

_Listening to it now. Thanks for today, I mean it._

He hits send and waits for the reply, which comes slower, but he imagines a softer smile on Peter's face as he reads it.

_You're welcome. Get some sleep, pup. School tomorrow.  
-PH_

And Isaac falls asleep, curled up with the blanket still smelling slightly of Peter, clutching his phone, listening to the music coming through the headphones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying NOT to turn this fic into a huge plug for all of my favorite music, but it's going to be pretty hard. I didn't mention any specific bands this chapter, but I'm sure some will come up sooner or later.
> 
> So, turning Peter into a total music enthusiast...y/n? He seems like the type, in my opinion. Also, the only reason Peter signs 'PH' at the end of all of his texts is because it seems like something his ego would compel him to do? Maybe that's just me.
> 
> I think it's about time for me to thank all of you who have left me wonderful comments and kudos on this! It's way more than I ever expected and I'm very grateful for the reception you guys have given me with this. The show will go on, I promise!


	9. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know when I said things were starting to pick up in the next few chapters? This is what I was talking about.
> 
> Super big apologies for the really long wait on this one, guys! I moved at the beginning of the month (on the 31st of last month, actually) and just got internet set up today, so I haven't been able to get any new chapters up for you guys. Semi-steady updates will resume starting, well, now!
> 
> Anyway, hope this one is worth the long wait. Thanks for your patience, kudos, comments, and general support! You guys are awesome! ♥
> 
> Also, I'm gonna start adding a playlist to each chapter, so here's the playlist for this one! *smooches you all*
> 
> 1\. Fitz & The Tantrums - House on Fire  
> 2\. Florence + The Machine - Bedroom Hymns  
> 3\. Daughter - Still  
> 4\. Placebo - Where Is My Mind

The school day passes without much event, which Isaac is thankful for, seeing as he can't really bring himself to focus through many of his classes. He skates by on the excuse that he didn't sleep well, knowing that he won't be able to use it again for a while, but hoping he won't have to. Throughout the day, his focus kept creeping back to his phone in his pocket, and he found himself checking it every few minutes, looking for a new message, but never finding one.

By the time the final bell rings, Isaac is out the door of his classroom and down the front steps of the school faster than he should be, pretending to be human and all, but he can't force himself to feel guilty as he quickly darts away into the woods, escaping the watchful gazes of Scott and Stiles, who seemed to have been taking turns keeping an eye on him throughout the day. Neither said much to him in any of their shared classes, and neither Lydia or Allison seemed to notice that the two were acting little more jittery than usual.

Finally away from the scrutinizing gaze of his friends, Isaac finds himself moving through the woods toward the Hale house, for reasons he couldn't explain to himself even if he tried. He knows that no one will be there, but he supposes that's exactly the reason why. He needs some time alone, he tells himself, especially since he's not quite ready to face Derek after the events of the day before. The man hadn't returned to the apartment last night after their “disagreement” (as Isaac was calling it, because he didn't want to admit that he actually had a fight with his alpha), and wasn't there when Isaac roused himself for school that morning. 

Isaac is about twenty feet from the Hale house when he hears music. He hears the low, wailing female voice and thinks he recognizes it from somewhere, but he doesn't pay much attention as he moves closer to the house, honing in on the feeling of a packmate inside. When he reaches the front steps of the house, his wolf recognizes the presence as Peter, and he relaxes slightly as he tries the doorknob, finding it unlocked. When he enters the house, he's hit by multiple scents at once, the one of charred wood more strong than the others. He scents out Peter, following the scents of smoke, coffee, and Peter's cologne which is musky and rich. He finds the man in what was once the living room, sitting on the floor next to a small, portable record player, a pad of paper and a pencil in his hand. Peter doesn't look up when Isaac stops in the doorway, leaning against the blackened frame where he watches as the man continues to sketch furiously, eyes never leaving the paper.

He watches for a few more minutes as the sketching slows and the music stops; the man finally puts the pencil down, raising his gaze to the teen standing across the room from him.

“I doubt you came here to see me,” Peter remarks lightly, closing the sketch pad as Isaac catches a glimpse of a portrait of a woman drawn in graphite. Isaac shakes his head slowly, pushing off of the wall and moving toward the man. He slings his backpack off of his shoulders and drops it on the floor before sitting across from Peter, facing him, eyes falling on the record player. Peter follows his gaze, moving the needle off of the record and picking it up by the edges, flipping it over and sliding it into a sleeve laying on the floor before passing it to Isaac. The teen examines the cover, eyebrow raising slightly.

“Florence and the Machine?” he asks, a hint of incredulity in his voice. Peter picks the pencil up from the floor and flings it at the teen in playful warning. Isaac sets the record down with a laugh and holds his hands up in defense. “No judgment, I'm just surprised.”

With a huff, Peter places the record into a bag laying near the player and pulls out another, looking it over before pulling the vinyl from it's sleeve and placing it on the turntable. Isaac reaches across the space between them and pulls the sleeve from the man's hands, looking it over before setting it down as Peter moves the needle to the edge of the record.

“Have you ever heard of Daughter?” Peter asks him as the first crackle sounds from the player and it begins to play the first song on the record. Isaac shakes his head, lips pressed shut as Peter turns a soft, half-smile in his direction.

“I think you'll like this,” is all the older man says. They sit in silence as the music plays, Isaac observing Peter in ways he hadn't bothered to before - the swell of his bottom lip, the small crinkles near the corners of his eyes, the soft line of his brow and the hard line of his jaw – he watches as Peter darts his tongue out to wet his lips, and Isaac stares at that mouth for a long time before bringing his gaze back up to Peter's eyes. He sees something in the stormy blue of them, but can't identify it, even as his fingers move on their own and Peter's gaze flickers to them and back to Isaac's face as he closes the space between them and buries his fingers in the older man's hair at the nape of his neck.

Isaac feels the shiver that runs through Peter as the man's eyelids flutter slightly, and Isaac isn't sure what comes over him, but he lunges forward, pulling Peter in with the hand on his neck as he pushes himself up and touches the man's lips with his own. The response from Peter is instant, hands gripping at Isaac's waist and pulling him in closer, mouth claiming his hungrily, lips and teeth and tongue working against the teen's mouth until his lips part, and Isaac lets Peter claim his mouth, fingers winding further into the hair at the back of the older man's head as he tugs gently, climbing into the man's lap without breaking the kiss. Isaac brings his other hand up, clawing gently at the other man's shoulder, releasing it only briefly as Peter breaks the kiss long enough to tug Isaac's shirt up over his head.

Isaac tilts his head back and moans as Peter's mouth travels from his lips, down his jaw and neck, and settles on his collarbone, where the man nips gently before sucking, eliciting another moan from Isaac as he feels the hickey form and fade with equal quickness. Peter's hands are roaming his chest and sides and back, and Isaac can only hold his head, pressing insistently when Peter's tongue hits a spot that sends a shockwave of pleasure through him. The older beta grinds up against him, and Isaac claws wildly at the man's shoulder, pressing himself downward to meet the motion. Isaac feels the strong grip on his sides move lower, grabbing at his hips and pressing him downward as Peter grinds up again, and Isaac buries his face into the crook of Peter's neck, whimpering against the skin there, pressing his nose into the soft spot behind the man's ear and inhaling his scent. 

On the next upward grind, he feels Peter's fangs on his shoulder, and he gasps and claws at every inch of the man's back he can reach, shredding his shirt and digging long lines of red into his skin in the process. Peter moans loudly against the skin in his mouth and releases the flesh of the teen's shoulder, moving his mouth back up the line of Isaac's neck before claiming his mouth again, more ferocious and demanding than before, and Isaac struggles to keep up with the steadily increasing pace of the kiss.

The rumble of a car engine startles him out of the trance he's in, and he scrambles backwards off of Peter's lap, pulling his shirt on inside-out and collecting his backpack as he fights his shaking knees in order to stand. He glances at Peter, still on the floor, hands on his knees in a white-knuckled grip, eyes locked on the floorboards in front of himself. Isaac opens his mouth to speak, but stops when the rhythm of Stiles' footsteps approach, thundering up the front steps and into the room, slowing to a stop.

“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles begins, but stops, gaze flickering back and forth between the two wolves, both of which are resolutely avoiding each others' gaze. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Isaac shakes his head, forcing out a slightly rough, “Nothing.” Stiles raises an eyebrow at him, and Isaac can tell he is cataloging Isaac's flushed face, pink lips, and the slight smear of blood on the shoulder of his inside-out shirt. When the teen's gaze travels back to Peter, who still hasn't budged, his eyes narrow slightly before he grabs Isaac by the arm.

“Let's go,” he insists, and though he doesn't have the physical strength to force the wolf teen from the house, Isaac follows suit, glancing over his shoulder at Peter as he disappears out the door, following Stiles to the Jeep. They're in the car and en route to the apartment when Isaac risks a peek at Stiles. He notes the hard line of the other teen's mouth and the set of his jaw, and looks out the window, feeling like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

They remain silent the entire way to the apartment, but when Stiles pulls into a parking space and puts the car into park, shutting off the engine, Isaac begins to plea.

“Don't tell Derek,” he manages pitifully before Stiles rounds on him, angrier than he's ever seen the human before.

“Why the hell shouldn't I tell Derek? 'Hey, I kinda walked in on your beta making out with your crazy uncle!' Yeah, he's gonna love that,” Stiles' tone is icy and biting and it actually makes Isaac wince. “Do you have any idea what you're getting into? I mean, did you not listen to a single thing I told you the other day? Peter has killed people. Just because Derek slashed his throat and he used Lydia for some freaky werewolf voodoo ritual to come back from the dead doesn't mean that he's suddenly reformed. He's dangerous, Isaac.”

Isaac feels the rage bubble up inside again and clenches his fist on his leg, trying to contain some of it. He picks through his thoughts before replying, settling on, “Everyone keeps saying that, but he's never done anything to hurt me.”

“Yeah? And how long do you think that's going to last? I swear to god, Isaac, he's probably using you-”

“Shut up!” Stiles falls silent as the windows the Jeep rattle with Isaac's bellowing. The young wolf swallows, clenches his jaw, and lets out a sigh. “Just promise me you won't tell Derek.”

“Only if you tell him,” Stiles counters, giving Isaac a hard look, and the teen frowns, shaking his head.

“I can't-”

“Then I will! And even if I don't, Scott will! We're worried about you, do you get that?”

They fall silent again, Isaac mulling over his options. After a long minute, Stiles gets out of the Jeep, stalking away from the vehicle and up toward the apartment. Isaac follows, scurrying to catch up at first as they enter the building and take the elevator in silence to the top floor.

Isaac pauses outside of the apartment, a spark of panic setting his heart rate a high speed. Stiles stops, noticing the other teen frozen in place, and frowns.

“What?” the human asks, not fully able to keep the hint of annoyance out of his tone. Isaac opens his mouth, looking toward the elevator and back to the apartment door a few times before gesturing to himself.

“Derek will smell-”

“He's not even here,” Stiles snaps, unlocking the door and sliding it open with more force than necessary, shoving the other teen inside and slamming the door shut again. “He went to the store a while ago and when you didn't come home from school, I told him I'd go out to find you. You've got about ten minutes to get cleaned up if you don't want him smelling his uncle all over you.”

Isaac drops his backpack near the door and is on the stairs, starting up, before he turns to Stiles, who is digging through his own backpack which is sitting on the coffee table.

“Stiles.”

“What now?” the teen snaps, looking up at Isaac, his expression still full of irritation and a little bit of impatience.

“Thanks,” Isaac offers a small half-smile at the human before continuing up the stairs. He grabs a change of clothes out of his room before entering the bathroom, locking the door behind himself. He pauses to examine his reflection, peeling the shirt off of himself and looking at the smear of dried blood on his shoulder, not seeing any hint of the bite that Peter had placed there. With a sigh, he turns the shower on, cranking the temperature up.

His shower is short, but long enough for him to scrub his skin roughly with his sandalwood soap, hoping that the perfume of it would help cover up whatever is left of Peter's scent on his skin. When he redresses and exits the bathroom, he hears Stiles and Derek downstairs, talking softly in relaxed tones over the quiet drone of a movie. When Isaac circles down the spiral stairs, he pauses at the bottom to see Derek and Stiles seated close together on the couch, watching said movie on the TV, and Stiles' hand buried in a bowl of popcorn.

When Derek's head turns slightly toward Isaac and Stiles notices him, the other teen greets him with a, “Hey, Isaac! Nice of you to join us.”

Isaac is pleased to see the human in an apparently better mood and moves toward the couch with caution, avoiding Derek's gaze. The alpha stands, stopping Isaac's progress, and the younger of the two looks up at the steel blue of his alpha's eyes.

“Isaac,” Derek rumbles, tone even, and Isaac swallows, fighting the urge to avert his gaze, his wolf trying desperately to submit.

“Derek,” the teen counters, and the corner of the older man's mouth twitches slightly before he huffs a small laugh, seeming to deflate slightly. Isaac cracks a half-smile and moves around to sit on the far end of the couch, away from where Derek re-joins Stiles.

Isaac watches the two settle in, Derek's arm slung across the back of the couch where Stiles is sitting, neither of them apparently aware of their proximity. When Stiles notices Isaac looking, he offers the bowl of popcorn, which Isaac accepts, taking a few pieces before setting the bowl between them and settling in to focus on the movie.

“So, what are we watching?” Isaac asks after a few minutes, alarmed when Derek and Stiles both turn to look at him with raised eyebrows.

“Uh, The Princess Bride?” Stiles says, as if the answer is obvious, and Isaac shrugs, picking a few more pieces of popcorn out of the bowl.

“Never seen it,” he replies, dropping the food into his mouth before almost choking on it with laughter at Stiles' affronted expression.

“How? How can you have lived and never seen this movie?” Stiles sounds like he's suffered a personal offense as he grabs for the remote, rewinding the movie to start it from the beginning. Isaac simply shrugs in response, settling in and watching as the film begins to play again. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and opening his recent conversations. He feels his heartbeat speed up slightly as he sees Peter's name, and ignores Derek's questioning glance over the top of Stiles' head. Instead, he flips over to an older conversation with Scott and sends the other wolf a new message.

_Hey, you busy?_

He sets the device to vibrate before looking back up the movie, focusing in on it while he waits for a reply. When his phone buzzes, he picks it up quickly, looking at the received message.

_not really. whats up?_

Isaac glances up at the screen where Buttercup is being announced as Humperdink's bride-to-be, then looks at Derek and Stiles, who seem to have gotten even more comfortable. He looks back at his phone and types out a reply.

_Wanna hang out? I think Derek and Stiles need some alone time._

When Scott sends him another reply, Isaac has to hold back a laugh when he looks at it.

_???_

He discreetly snaps a picture of the two on the other end of the couch, nearly snuggling at this point, and sends it to Scott with the words 'Save me!' typed out underneath. This time when Scott replies, Isaac actually does laugh.

_on my way!!!_

He lets himself get absorbed in the movie while he waits, chuckling a little at the puns and jokes in the script and pointedly ignoring the little whisper fest going on at the opposite end of the couch. When the door to the apartment slides open and Stiles and Derek turn to look, Scott waves at the two with a small grin.

“Hey guys,” he greets, slipping his shoes off next to the door and holding up his backpack. “Just came by to study with Isaac.”

Isaac knits his eyebrows together slightly, looking confused for a moment before letting a look of dawning realization cross his face.

“Oh man, I totally forgot we were going to work on that English paper together!” he jumps up from the couch, moving toward the stairs with Scott close behind him, waving to the two on the couch. “Sorry guys, I'll watch the rest later.”

As the two disappear up the stairs, Stiles settles back in against Derek's side, picking the bowl of popcorn back up and grumbling, “Fucking weirdos.”


	10. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the slow update on this one! I don't have much of an excuse other than I've been sick lately, and the finale of season 3A depressed me so bad that I just couldn't write! FEELS.
> 
> We're catching up to the beginning of S3 soon, where we will take a slight divergence from canon. Don't worry, I think you'll all dig it. ;3
> 
> Playlist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Metric - Youth Without Youth  
> 2\. Alabama Shakes - I Found You  
> 3\. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros - Better Days  
> 4\. Hugh Laurie - Unchain My Heart

Scott stops just inside Isaac's room as the taller teen gravitates toward the record player and crate of vinyl on the floor beside it, flipping through sleeves and sleeves of music. Scott notices that the music seems to be the focal point of Isaac's room, since the other wolf hasn't done much in the way of decorating and doesn't seem to have the intent to.

“Where did all of that come from?” Scott asks curiously as he finally steps into the room, closing the door behind himself as he moves to lean over Isaac's shoulder. Isaac fumbles a bit at the question, fingers skipping over a few albums, and Scott tilts his head at his friend.

“Peter bought it for me,” Isaac mumbles, knowing that Scott can hear him, and notices how the other teen stiffens slightly behind him at the mention of Peter. Scott has the decency to not say anything, despite the fact that Isaac can hear him grinding his teeth behind him, and that's almost as bad. Isaac takes his time selecting a record – Metric, he decides, since the album cover was interesting – before turning around and flopping down onto his bed next to Scott, who has made himself comfortable and pulled his backpack into his lap, sifting through papers and notebooks and textbooks. Isaac perks up slightly at this.

“Are we actually going to study?” Scott gives Isaac a half-smile and shrug, pulling a textbook and a battered notebook out of the mess.

“Why not? I mean, I was doing homework before I came to rescue you,” he pauses while he digs around for a pen, continuing after he's succeeded in finding one. “I figured we could do this for a while and then find something else to do?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Isaac concedes easily enough, rolling over to grab his backpack, hand swiping at air before he remembers where he dropped his bag that afternoon. “Uh. Actually, I left my backpack downstairs. Give me a minute, alright?”

Scott nods, cracking open his text book to a spot that has several pages stuffed into one spot, some of them falling out as he lays the book down on Isaac's bed and opens his notebook. Isaac slips out of his room and down the stairs almost silently, glancing in the direction of the television as he reaches the front door and grabs his backpack. Stiles and Derek are still situated comfortably on the couch, Derek's arm over the back of the couch behind Stiles, the teen's feet curled under him on the cushions, and they're sharing the bowl of popcorn while Stiles quotes the movie, delivering every line in perfect time with the actors. 

He sees Derek glance over his shoulder in his direction, and he holds the backpack up as signal, earning a nod from the alpha before his attention is drawn back to the film. With a shake of his head, Isaac ducks back up the stairs, shutting the door again as he practically throws himself down onto his bed, jostling Scott's book and papers. The darker-haired teen doesn't seem too bothered by this, though, just re-organizes them as he watches Isaac pull his own work out of his backpack.

“They've gotten even worse,” Isaac announces as he drops the bag to the floor and lays out his own book and notes across from Scott. Scott looks at him blankly for a minute before Isaac gestures to the floor, and Scott wrinkles his nose a little, laughing a small laugh.

“As long as they're not down there making out when I leave...” Scott jokes, but Isaac can hear a hint of wariness in his tone, which only makes him laugh. “Anyway, how far have you gotten on the mythology paper for English?”

Isaac looks down at his notes, flipping a few pages. “Well, I got an idea of what myth I want to use, but I'm not sure how I'm going to write a paper about it,” he replies honestly, flipping through his notes a bit more before passing them over to Scott. Scott gives them a once-over, nodding as he reads a few lines, before passing them back. Isaac looks at the notebook resting beside Scott's textbook and asks, “What about you?”

Scott glances down at his book with a sheepish grin and a shrug. “I've been having a hard time picking one. I mean, there are a lot of myths and all of them are used for different things. At first I was thinking about using one of the epics, you know, the golden fleece or something, but...”

He trails off with another shrug and Isaac nods, chewing the end of his pencil in thought. They both stare aimlessly in thought a bit more, struggling with the assignment, before Isaac laughs and throws his pencil down. “You know, we're kind of not getting anywhere.” Scott laughs out an agreement and the two quickly pack up their homework, deciding instead to play a game. 

They're halfway through a very close race in Mario Kart when they both perk up at the sound of the door to the loft sliding open, then shut. They look at each other for a long moment before both are scrambling off the bed and out of Isaac's room, Isaac in the lead as he peeks over the rail of the spiral stairs, spotting...nothing. The TV is off and Derek and Stiles have both vacated the couch – and the apartment, it would appear – and Isaac turns back to Scott with a shrug.

“Guess Derek is driving him home?” Scott tries, and Isaac shakes his head, brows furrowing as they finish the circle down the stairs to the main floor.

“Stiles drove here,” Isaac says, trying not to trip over the words as he remembers why exactly Stiles drove to the loft – and where he had found Isaac just before.

Scott just shrugs again, flopping down onto the now empty couch. “Maybe they just went out for ice cream.”

“Ice cream? What are you, four?” Isaac mocks with a laugh, flopping himself down onto the other side of the couch, grinning across at Scott. The darker-haired teen tosses a throw pillow at him, which Isaac catches easily, grinning out from behind it at his friend.

“Okay, so I'm just trying to pretend like my best friend and Derek aren't secretly...dating, or something,” Scott admits, sounding slightly perturbed that he's even being made to think about this. Isaac nods a little, moving the throw pillow behind his head and leaning back into it. “I mean, Stiles smells like Derek almost constantly now, it's a little weird, and-”

Scott stops, looking over at Isaac, who is fiddling with the hem of his own shirt. He looks up at Scott, alarmed by the others' sudden silence.

“Speaking of smells...” Scott begins, trailing off and looking expectantly at Isaac. The teen squirms slightly, scowling across the space at Scott.

“What,” he mumbles, obviously not up for this conversation. Scott sighs and runs a hand back through his hair.

“Look, man, I know that you...you've been hanging out with Peter,” he starts, and Isaac growls, sitting up suddenly. Scott quickly waves his hands in a sign of defense. “Which is fine! I guess. I mean, I'm worried about you because he's not exactly the sanest guy around here? But if Derek's too busy or whatever...”

Scott sighs again, picking at his nails now. Isaac settles back into the couch, posture still stiff and defensive as he watches his friend.

“If you need someone to talk to, you know you can talk to me, right? I mean, I'd rather you talk to me than Peter, especially since we're still not really sure what he's up to.” When Scott looks up at Isaac, he has the most puppy-dog look Isaac has ever seen on another person, gaze pleading, mouth drawn into a thin line mirroring the concern written all over his face. Isaac sighs and looks down, picking at the hem of his shirt again.

“I know,” he starts, then swallows and tries again, “I know you guys keep saying he's dangerous-”

“Because he is.” Scott insists. Isaac ignores him.

“But it's kind of annoying when you guys keep giving me the same lecture over and over again. I mean, yeah Peter and I had coffee the other day and he helped me with my homework. He bought me some music to help me study,” Isaac weaves the white lie while he's talking, admitting that Peter bought him the records, but still being kind of unsure as to why. “But he's never done anything aside from try to help me. I really wish you guys could see that.”

Scott looks like he's contemplating this, really letting the information sink in unlike Stile had earlier, or any time Isaac had talked to him about the situation. Isaac watches as Scott sighs, runs his hand through his hair again, and opens his mouth to talk just as the metal door of the loft scrapes open again. Both teens look up to see Derek and Stiles entering the apartment, Stiles holding a drink tray filled with DQ Blizzards, and Scott instantly cracks a grin at Isaac, nudging the other with his foot.

“Ice cream,” he says, and Isaac shoves back.

“Four-year-old,” he mocks back in the same tone.

“Hey guys!” Stiles says, approaching the couch with a grin. He takes two blizzards from the tray and holds the remaining two out to Scott, who takes the tray and immediately sniffs his out, plucking it from the tray and passing the last one over to Isaac, who takes it and removes the lid curiously. Stiles leans against the back of the couch, folding his arms across it and shoving a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, chewing large chunks of peanut butter cup.

“We didn't know what you wanted,” Derek explains, grabbing his ice cream from Stiles before moving to the other couch and laying across it.

“So we got you Butterfinger,” Stiles finishes with a grin, before shoving another spoonful into his mouth. Isaac can't help the grin that splits his face, the feeling of safety and happiness surging in his chest at being surrounded by friends and pack. The four finish their ice cream with casual conversation, accompanied by Stiles continually trying and failing to catch Derek by surprise and wipe a little ice cream across the Alpha's nose. 

It isn't long after all the ice cream is gone and the living room is tidied up that Scott and Stiles say goodnight, letting themselves out, and Isaac drags himself back upstairs to his room, collapsing on his bed without closing the door or changing clothes. He's rolling over to wrap himself up into a blanket when Derek appears in the doorway, and Isaac lets himself feel a little proud over the fact that he didn't jump or show his surprise. He curls his arm under his pillow as he looks up at his alpha, feeling the most relaxed he has in a long time.

“I'm going to go look for Erica and Boyd,” Derek tells him without any conversation openers. Isaac sits up a little, looking at Derek more intensely than before.

“I want to come with,” he says immediately, no doubt in his mind, but Derek is already shaking his head before the words are even halfway out.

“Absolutely not. You have school tomorrow. I should be back by the time you get home,” he adds the extra part, and it's a strange statement of domesticity coming from Derek that makes Isaac's chest tighten a little bit. Like they're a real family. They stare each other down for a long time before Isaac nods his agreement and Derek bids him goodnight, flipping the light switch and shutting the door.

Isaac lets himself lay his head down on his pillow, listening to the rustle of clothes across the hall and Derek changes, then the footsteps on the stairs as he descends onto the main floor, and finally the opening and closing of the metal door to the loft. Isaac lays there for a long time, listening to the creaking, settling wood of the loft, the distant ambient noises of the city, all of the little delicate sounds that his wolf hearing can pick up, before it all becomes too much for him.

Using his phone as a flashlight, he selects a record from the crate at the foot of his bed – something “bluesy”, he remembers Peter saying – and puts it on before he lays down again, focusing on the music instead of the little noises that drive him insane. He's about to put his phone down for the night, but he opens his conversation with Peter instead. He types out a quick and simple “Goodnight” before hitting send. He stares at his phone until the light dims and the screen finally goes black, then sets it down next to his pillow. He falls asleep with his hand curled around the device, and is vaguely aware right before he drifts to sleep that he never gets a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any ideas for playlist music? Tell me [here](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask) or submit a link [here](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/submit).
> 
> Love you guys! ♥


	11. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints of claustrophobia in this chapter, as well as panic attacks and Peter being a fucking jerk.
> 
> Sorry this took so long, you guys! I hit a wall for a while there and took a much-needed break (which included a mini, weekend vacation to Colorado!! yay!) to work on cosplay and some other stuff.
> 
> But I'm back and ready for action!
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter is as follows:
> 
> 1\. Man Man - Loot my Body  
> 2\. Funeral Suits - Hands Down  
> 3\. Brand New - Gasoline  
> 4\. MYPET - Pays To Know  
> 5\. LEGS - There's A Sadness In My Heart

Isaac wakes up with a start at four in the morning, according to the glowing numbers of his alarm clock. He's tangled in his blankets, heart beating wildly, and very aware of how alone he is at that moment. Fumbling for his phone, he grabs it and texts the first person on his list – it's still Peter, who has not responded to his goodnight text, he notes – before grabbing his blanket and moving across the hall into Derek's room. The alpha's bed is empty and rumpled, blankets and pillows curled into more of a nest than an actual bed, and Isaac gravitates toward it, attempting to find a source of comfort. He curls up in the midst of the blankets and pillows, wrapping himself up in his own blanket as well as one of Derek's, the scent of his alpha calming him slightly as he recovers from his nightmare. 

He falls asleep again, still waiting for a reply from Peter. When he wakes again, he's late for school and Derek is still no where to be found. He takes his time getting ready and skips breakfast before leaving the loft and walking the few miles to school at a brisk pace.

It's only the middle of his second class by the time Isaac gets to school, and he makes sure to stop by the attendance office to fill out the proper slip indicating that he over slept, just to cover his bases. He hurries to his English class and avoids Scott's gaze as he slips into the seat beside him, pulling out his text book to follow along with the reading. A few minutes into following the words on the page, he feels a nudge on his ankle and looks down, following the offending foot up to Scott, who is looking at him with an expression of mild panic.

“Are you okay? Where were you?” He hisses across the space, and Isaac glances at the teacher to make sure she's not paying attention before he replies.

“Overslept. Derek went out looking for Erica and Boyd last night, I haven't heard from him yet, but he said he'd be back before school got out today,” Isaac replies with a small shrug, looking and feeling unsure. He has no reason to worry about Derek, other than the pack of alphas roaming around town, which is more like several, really good reasons if he's being honest with himself.

The corners of Scott's mouth turn down in a small frown as he processes this information, tapping the end of his pencil against his notebook. Isaac watches as he takes out his phone and types a quick message, sending it off before he turns back to their conversation.

“He went alone?” Scott whispers, and Isaac nods, lips pulling together tightly, because he's fairly certain that even though he hasn't heard from Peter since the day before that the older man isn't exactly jumping at the chance to help Derek find his lost betas. Scott's frown deepens, but he doesn't say anything else to Isaac for the rest of class, just types a few messages on his phone occasionally and half-focuses on the teacher.

When the bell rings for the end of class, they still don't speak to each other, just walk together until Isaac has to go to History and Scott to Math. They reconvene at lunch, where Isaac learns that Scott has been texting Stiles, who doesn't say much past an uncharacteristically quiet “hello” and proceeds to push his food around his plate instead of actually eating. When Stiles gets up to throw his uneaten food away, Isaac asks Scott about their friends' silence; he tells Isaac that Stiles is just mad that Derek didn't tell his plans to anyone else, and leaves it at that.

The school day seems to crawl by, and Isaac nearly jumps out of his skin at the last bell, rushing out of the building and fighting the urge to get down on all fours and run back to the loft. He declines every offer for a ride home and walks, forcing himself to take his time, ignoring the weight that has settled in his stomach and is worrying at his nerves. He tries to shake the feeling that something isn't right, but can't seem to; it gets worse the closer he gets to the loft, and he finds himself increasing his pace despite his best efforts.

By the time he reaches the building, he's running – at a human speed, at least – and he takes the stairs three at a time up to their floor. When he slides the door open, he feels the weight in his stomach grow hot, angry, and he rushes into the apartment, but he already knows it's empty. He tosses his backpack aside and sinks down onto the couch, pulling out his phone to text Scott. He begins to type the message, then gives up and dials the teen's number instead. 

Scott picks up on the second ring. “Isaac, what's wrong?”

“He's not here,” Isaac feels distant, separated from himself as he says it. He watches his fingers curl and uncurl where his hand is resting otherwise limply on his lap.

Scott's silence is almost tangible, and when he speaks again after a long minute, it's with forced optimism in his tone. “Maybe he's still looking. Just give him some more time, Isaac, I'm sure he'll be fine.”

“Yeah,” Isaac agrees with no feeling, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. He takes a deep breath and holds it until spots start to form in his vision. He says again, “Yeah, you're right. Sorry to bother you.”

He hangs up before the teen can say anything else and falls sideways on the couch, pillowing his head on his arm and closing his eyes. He can't force himself to believe what he says, not like Scott can, so he lets himself go to sleep, thinking about Derek, Boyd, and Erica, with only the smallest hopes that they're all safe.

When he wakes again, the light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows is not sunlight, but the cold florescent of the streetlights outside. He sits up slowly, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness in his muscles. He checks his phone, hoping for some kind of update from Derek, or a message from Peter, and sees nothing. He opens the message he began typing to Scott earlier about Derek's whereabouts - that he still is not back - and sends it before pocketing his phone and stretching his arms far above his head.

“Isaac,” the voice startles him into shifting momentarily as he whips around on the couch, facing the doorway into the kitchen. He sees Peter, back-lit by the kitchen lights, and shifts back, settling back onto the couch in the same motion.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, suspicion and wariness in his tone. Peter hears this and stays where he is, putting his hands into his pockets with a weak shrug.

“Making dinner,” he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Isaac can't help but relax a little, even while knowing that Derek is still not back. He moves off of the couch and takes a few steps toward Peter, but stops when he sees the subtle tensing in the man's shoulders that indicates he should not move any closer. They stand there like that, just looking at each other for a long minute, before Peter turns toward the kitchen. “Come eat.”

Isaac follows him into the kitchen and takes a seat at the table, where the older man has already laid out a place for him, a steaming plate of pan-fried chicken and rice, with a mug of hot chocolate sitting beside it. He begins to eat, ignoring Peter as he dishes up his own plate and takes a seat directly across from Isaac, keeping some distance between them. They eat in silence and without looking at each other, Isaac only bothering to look up once his plate has been cleared and his mug of hot chocolate emptied. Peter doesn't meet his gaze, only sweeps the dishes away and into the sink, where he leaves them instead of washing them. Isaac is standing from his seat and moving toward the doorway when Peter turns, leaning back against the counter, and locks his gaze on the teen.

“We need to talk,” he begins, and Isaac barely controls the urge or snort a laugh at the words, only stopped because of the pit of twisting unease that has begun again in his stomach.

“What if I don't want to talk?” Isaac attempts, voice soft as he shifts his gaze down to where Peter's hands are gripping the edge of the counter. Peter sighs and crosses his arms over his chest, and Isaac follows the motion of his hands, watching them tuck beneath his elbows, remembering how they grasped at him only the day before.

“I kind of figured you wouldn't want to, but unfortunately, it's necessary,” Peter assures him, his tone still light, although laced with the threat of serious discussion. Isaac tries to swallow the lump that has formed in his throat, but finds that his mouth is suddenly dry.

“If you're going to say that it was a mistake, I don't want to hear it,” he tries to sound confident, but he just sounds defeated, gaze lingering on the man's shoes now instead of anywhere conceivably near his face. Peter's stance shifts slightly, feet spreading wider apart, and Isaac keeps his focus on them, even though he expects the older man is trying to make eye contact.

“But it was a mistake, Isaac. It never should have happened, and I regret that I did not have enough control over myself enough to stop it from happening in the first place,” Peter's voice is low and soft, as if speaking to someone who is unstable or damaged. Isaac reminds himself that he is at least one of those things as he tugs at his shirt sleeves, gaze shifting across the shining tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Fine, whatever,” he concedes half-heartedly, hoping that it will make the man stop talking. He doesn't want to have this conversation, doesn't want to think about what happened between them, just wants it to happen again. Peter huffs a sigh and shifts again, stance becoming less defensive as he moves his feet closer together and his arms drop back down to his sides.

“Isaac, I'm serious,” this time Peter sounds defeated, and Isaac can't help but steal a glance at the man's face. He looks weary, exhausted, and not anything like what Isaac is used to. He looks almost pleading when he adds, “It can't happen again.”

Isaac forces a nod before turning quickly and escaping the suddenly small kitchen. He moves across the living room slowly and numbly, up the stairs and into his room. He puts on a record, sits on his bed, and finally lets in the air he's been keeping out since he left the kitchen. He breathes deep and tries to sigh, but the exhale catches in his throat and a torn and ragged noise comes out with it. When he reaches up to scrub at his face, he realizes that his cheeks are wet and wipes at them angrily, upset with himself for crying over...over what? Over a kiss that never should have happened.

He lays down without changing clothes and is asleep before he can think about anything else.

Isaac wakes up again sometime in the night, breath caught in his throat, claws tearing at his bedsheets, skin, anything within his reach. His vision is darkened and blurred, and he gasps for air but can't seem to pull any in. He is tearing at his chest with a handful of sharpened, blood-stained claws when another hand grabs his and wrenches it away from his body.

He comes back to himself in pieces; first he sucks in a breath of cold air, which he releases in a choked sob. He feels the hand gripping his wrist, and one stroking through his sweat-soaked hair. He feels the body pressed against his from behind, the steady rise and fall of their chest as they breathe, the rhythmic beating of their heart. When Isaac opens his eyes, he is in his room in Derek's loft, not in the freezer that he occupied in his dream, and he lets out another sob, fingers curling around the hand gripping his own.

“Shh, it's okay, pup, it's over,” Peter's breath tickles his ear, and he leans heavily back against the man, unable to keep himself from shivering. The stroking in his hair doesn't stop, but Peter gently releases his wrist, pulling the shredded covers over his legs and up to his chest. Isaac doesn't fight it, just lets himself lean back against the body in his bed, breathing deeply and trying to calm his tears.

They sit like this for long enough that Isaac feels himself not only calm, but also start to doze off again. When Peter shifts behind him, he wakes instantly, eyes opening in panic as he grabs for the other man's hands where they are locked around his waist. “No,” it's barely more than a breath, but Isaac already feels the panic washing over him again. “Don't go.”

Peter stills, moving only to lift a hand to stroke through Isaac's hair again. He smooths the hair back from the teen's forehead in a long, continued motion until Isaac is completely asleep and for a while afterward, until Peter feels himself drift off to sleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still taking suggestions for music on my Tumblr, [here](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask) and [here](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/submit).
> 
> Thanks to [jjjat3am](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com) for suggesting Gasoline by Brand New, which was featured in this chapter. More suggested music will be featured in up-coming chapters, as well!
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter today, but I promise more is coming, and some more of my favorite characters are soon to be making appearances, so...yay! Excitement!


	12. Miguel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! A double-upload for your patience. You guys are awesome, and you deserve so much better than my sporadic updates.
> 
> I'm probably most proud of this chapter out of any of the others so far. I love Danny, goodness.
> 
> Playlist:
> 
> 1\. The Jungle Giants - Don't Know What Else To Do  
> 2\. Elektrik People - Make Me A Bird  
> 3\. Teen - Come Back  
> 4\. Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?  
> 5\. Bastille - Daniel in the Den

Isaac is the first to wake in the morning, eyes fighting to open against the sunlight streaming in through his window. He tries to roll over but finds that he can't, the solid weight behind him extending into an arm draped gently over his waist, and he stops moving abruptly, processing this situation. His lack of movement seems to jostle the other man, though, and Peter nuzzles into the nape of Isaac's neck, tightening his grip for a moment before waking fully and, seeming to realize his actions, pulling away completely. Both are still and silent for a minute before Isaac sits up, looking down at the floor.

“What is it?” Peter asks, sitting up beside him and following his gaze, and a small frown forms on Isaac's face.

“I woke up because I heard something,” he answers softly, and it's true. The initial thing that startled him from sleep was a sound on the lower floor of the loft, but there's nothing now. He waits a moment before shrugging and standing to stretch, yawning as he does so. “Guess I was just imagining it.”

Peter looks like he's about to say something in the exact moment that there is another indistinguishable sound from downstairs, and they look at each other, frozen. A second later, Isaac hears a foot land on the lowest step of the stairs, and Scott's voice calling up them, “Isaac? Are you here?”

The teen hurriedly changes shirts, hoping to look like he didn't sleep in whatever he wore to school the day before, and rushes to open his bedroom door just as soon as Scott reaches the top of the stairs. “Hey, yeah, I'm here. What's up?” He plays ignorant to the shifting expression on Scott's face, first relief, then suspicion and something else as he spots Peter, who is still sitting in Isaac's bed.

“Derek's not back yet,” Scott tells him, turning his gaze away from the older man in the room and setting his mouth into a hard line. “Stiles wants to use the GPS tracker on his phone, but we don't know his password. Do you have any ideas?” Isaac shakes his head mutely, and only stiffens a little as he feels Peter approach from behind him, framing them in the doorway by putting a hand on either side of the frame. 

“Let's move this little pow-wow downstairs, boys,” he nudges Isaac gently in the back of the knee with his own, and the teen practically jumps forward, almost bumping into Scott on his way past his friend and down the stairs. Scott stares at Peter for another minute, waiting for him to go down the stairs as well, before the older man huffs out a sigh of irritation and follows Isaac. On the main floor of the apartment, Stiles is sitting at the table with his laptop, facing the open room and typing rapidly in a window, cursing occasionally. Isaac moves toward the table and ignores when Peter brushes past him on his way to the kitchen. Scott joins him a second later, putting a hand on his shoulder and bringing him closer to the table as Stiles looks up with an expression of grim determination.

“Hey, Isaac,” he greets without much feeling, and the teen nods in reply. “I'm guessing no one here has any idea what the password might be to get into Derek's GPS tracker?”

“No clue,” the curly-haired teen sits across from Stiles at the table, resting his chin on his hands. Scott stands to the side and watches the kitchen, arms folded across his chest, feet spread wide, and Isaac tries not to look directly at him, not wanting to see the expression he's wearing. Stiles swears and goes back to typing, stopping again only a minute later when Peter returns from the kitchen with two cups of coffee, passing one to Isaac silently and keeping the other for himself. Stiles looks between them, the corners of his mouth twitching in a frown, hands continuously moving as he tugs at his shirt collar, the strings of his hoodie, raking his fingers through his hair. Isaac sets his mug down after taking a long drink, and Stiles reaches for it, only to have his hand gently slapped away by Peter.

“Ow!” Stiles cradles his hand to himself, mostly for dramatics, and scowls at Peter with the most loathing Isaac has ever seen in his expression. Peter stares back, eyebrows canted upwards in a mockery of amusement.

“Guys, come on,” Scott speaks for the first time since they came downstairs, and Isaac finally turns his gaze on to him. “We're not getting anywhere with this, and for all we know, Derek could be in serious trouble right now.”

Isaac picks up his coffee mug, holding it with both hands and swirls the contents gently as he nods, biting his lip. “But we don't know how to find him.”

“Stiles, if you can't get Derek's password, can't you hack the system?” Scott turns to his best friend, who has dropped both of his hands to the table, fingers bouncing across the surface in an impatient scatter.

“Yeah, maybe, if I had like a ton of time,” he waves a hand in a meaningless gesture before scrubbing his fingers over his scalp again. Isaac idly notes that his hair has gotten longer, but considers that's a conversation for when his alpha isn't possibly in mortal danger, and takes another drink of his coffee. They sit in silence for another minute, Stiles bouncing his knee against the underside of the table, before he snaps his fingers and points at Scott. “Danny.”

Scott's eyebrows nearly rocket into his hairline. “You think Danny could help us?” Stiles is already digging for his phone, fumbling it as he attempts to dial.

“Yeah, he's great at this stuff,” he doesn't give any more explanation, as he's already bringing the phone to his ear, bouncing impatiently. “Come on, Danny, pick up...”

Isaac moves to take another drink of his coffee, but finds the mug empty, and Peter slips it out of his hand gently, leaving for the kitchen again. Isaac rests his chin on his hand, then sits up a moment later when Peter returns with a full mug for him, at the same time that Stiles slams his hand down on the table, making the three wolves jump.

“Danny! Hey, man, how are ya? Look I know it's early and-...school? Yeah, no, I know I'm not at school, dude,” Stiles winces. “Sorry, I know. Look, it's just I really need your help with something. Yes, right now.”

He bites his lip and pats his hand against the table. “I know, and I will owe you my life, dude, but come on, I really need- You will? Oh sweet, thank you, oh my god.” Isaac listens as Stiles relays the address to Danny before hanging up, and Stiles stands from his chair, bouncing a little. Isaac simply continues to drink his coffee and watches the other teen go to town, trying to burn off some of his excess energy.

Ten minutes later, after Isaac and Peter have burned through an entire pot of coffee, Scott has finally taken a seat and Stiles is bouncing around the loft animatedly. Scott watches his friend with barely concealed exhaustion, even as he darts to open the door when a knock resonates on the metal sheeting. Danny enters the apartment with his backpack slung over his shoulder and shoots Stiles a withering look as the hyperactive teen attempts to thank him repeatedly.

“I just want you to know I'm skipping class for this, so I hope it's important,” Danny automatically sets his bag onto the table and begins to unpack his laptop. Scott sits forward and makes eye contact with his fellow lacrosse player.

“It is important, I promise,” Scott swears, and Danny surveys him for a minute before nodding and booting up his computer. In the time that it takes to start up, he takes a seat and surveys the loft carefully, eyes lingering on Peter who is lounging on the couch across the room, before turning to Isaac.

“Hey, Isaac,” he greets with a curious tone, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he types in a password and finishes loading the system the rest of the way. Isaac nods in greeting, not trusting his voice. Stiles comes to linger over Danny's shoulder, and begins explaining in the most vague way possible.

“So, we need to find a phone using it's GPS tracker but we don't know the password,” Stiles explains, and Danny types something, nodding a little.

“Who's phone is it?”

“Who's phone is it?” Stiles parrots, looking between Danny and Scott. “Uh, my cousin's.” Danny raises an eyebrow. 

“Miguel?” he asks, and types something else, corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk. Stiles nods too enthusiastically.

“That's the one,” he makes a gesture in response to Scott's confused expression behind Danny's back. “He's, uh, really bad at keeping track of his belongings, and he lost his phone last night while he was at a party, but he was so hammered he doesn't remember where the party was at.”

Danny doesn't look convinced, but doesn't challenge anything Stiles tells him, much to Isaac's amusement. Instead, he asks, “What's the phone number?”

“What?” Stiles stops mid-rant, looking at Danny. The darker-haired teen rolls his eyes.

“The phone number? Of the phone you want to find?”

“Oh, right,” Stiles pulls out his phone and scrolls through the contact list, finding the correct number. When he gets it pulled up, he hands the phone over to Danny so he can copy it into whatever program he's using. After a minute, he passes the phone back to Stiles.

“It says here that the phone belongs to someone named Derek Hale,” Danny's tone is incredulous now as he looks over his shoulder at Stiles. “Not Miguel.”

“Uh,” Stiles starts, “Miguel is actually his nickname, see-”

“You said he didn't speak English,” Danny turns completely around to face Stiles now, arms crossing over his chest. “You said he wasn't from his country.”

Stiles swears, gesturing to the computer behind the other teen. “Does it say where the phone is or not?”

“You know, I ignore a lot of the weird stuff that you guys are into,” Danny says, patience waning, “I even ignored the weird stuff that Jackson asked me to do for him last year, but you're going to have to tell me what all this is about eventually.”

Stiles looks like he's ready to break down, completely at a loss, and looks at Scott for help. Scott only shakes his head. Isaac does the same when Stiles' gaze turns on him, copying Scott's gesture, and Stiles sighs.

“Danny, I promise you, I will explain everything to you if you just _tell us where that phone is_ ,” he pleads, and Danny must see the desperation in his face, because he turns back to the computer and types a few things.

“Says it's at Beacon Hills First National Bank,” he reads, eyebrow raising. “Which is not only a weird place for a party, but that branch has been closed for ages.”

Stiles bounces, looking to Scott who is already on his feet, and Isaac follows suit. He turns his attention back to Danny, who is folding up his laptop and stuffing it away into his backpack again. “Thank you, Danny, I owe you one man-”

“Stiles,” he cuts off, eyebrows raising expectantly, and Stiles almost whimpers, looking between Scott and Isaac who are already standing by the door, and Danny, who is waiting for his promised explanation.

“Later, Danny, I swear, but right now I really have to-”

“You stay,” Peter says, speaking for the first time that morning as he rises from the couch. “I'll go with to make sure they stay out of trouble.”

“Like that makes me feel any better,” Stiles snipes bitterly, pointing an accusing finger at Peter. “You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you.”

Peter's eyes flash blue for a second, and Stiles takes a step back. “Do you really want to try to stop me? Old issues aside, Derek is my family.”

Stiles opens his mouth to argue in return, but Scott interrupts from the doorway, “Guys, do you really think right now is the best time for this conversation? Stiles, you stay with Danny. Peter's coming with us.”

Stiles takes a seat at the table, avoiding Danny's expectant gaze, and watches Scott, Isaac, and Peter disappear out the door.

“So,” Danny starts, tapping a finger on the tabletop to get Stiles' attention. “You can start with Miguel, and whoever that guy was.”

Stiles rubs a hand across his face and lets out a frustrated groan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to drop me suggestions for music in my [ask box](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask) or [submissions](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/submit) on Tumblr!
> 
> I haven't written Danny before so I was a little nervous about this chapter, but he'll be making more appearances! So if I did well, please let me know, or if I need improvement, let me know that as well. I want to make sure I'm writing him correctly before I bring him back around in later chapters.


	13. The Challenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me begin by saying I am SO, SO SORRY for leaving you guys hanging for this long. I've had a LOT of personal issues over the past few months that I've been struggling with, the biggest being my depression. It's taken me a lot of effort to pull myself back into a creative mood, but I'm starting to get there again.
> 
> Again, I apologize sincerely for making you all wait so long for this chapter. I tried to make it extra long for the wait, but I found a good place to stop it and cut it short. I've already got another one in the works, so don't worry about waiting too long for the next one.
> 
> Here's your playlist this time around:
> 
> 1\. IAMX - Come Home  
> 2\. The Hoosiers - Clinging On For Life  
> 3\. The Beatles - With A Little Help From My Friends  
> 4\. The Cranberries - Carry On  
> 5\. The Neighbourhood - Staying Up
> 
> There's more texting at the end of this chapter than anything else, and some parts may seem a bit rushed. I hope you enjoy, regardless!

Isaac finds that the trip to Beacon Hills First National Bank is long and filled with awkward silence as he and Peter avoid each others' gaze, and Isaac tries to avoid Scott's as well just for good measure. The trip itself isn't long, it just seems that way, so when they arrive outside of the locked front doors, Scott stops and turns to the other two.

“Okay, the plan is to get Derek, Erica, and Boyd out safely. We'll split up-”

“Um,” Peter interrupts, raising a hand and waving it a bit to get Scott's attention. It works, but the other teen looks mildly irritated. “Some of us aren't exactly strong enough on our own to take on an alpha.”

“So don't take an any of the alphas,” Scott warns, looking between them for a minute. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I guess splitting up would be a pretty bad idea, anyway. We should stick together. Power in numbers, right?”

“Isn't it 'safety in numbers'?” Isaac throws out, he can't help it. He digs his hands into his pockets when Scott ignores him in favor of busting the padlock keeping the doors chained shut. They survey the area briefly to make sure it's clear before Scott leads them inside. The lack of light inside is a huge contrast from outside, where the sun is trying desperately to peek through the typical overcast skies of autumn. Isaac finds himself thankful for his wolf senses that allow his eyes to adjust immediately, and he sticks close to Scott and Peter as the three creep forward into the dark building, footsteps falling almost silently.

They traverse the main lobby and the large hallway leading back to the vault, finding no one. They pause outside of the vault, Scott holding up a hand to stop the other two from moving forward, turning to look at them when he says, “Don't you think it's kind of weird we haven't run into anyone yet? No alphas, nothing?”

“You're saying you think it's a trap,” Peter says what Isaac has been fearing this whole time, and he has to force himself to not bury his hands in his pockets again. Scott nods and turns toward the vault door, which is closed but does not appear to be locked, and moves to open it. As he does, Isaac can hear movement within the vault, and he readies his claws, prepared to attack or defend, which ever may be needed.

The vault isn't empty, as Isaac somehow expects it to be. Scott is the first to rush in without checking the dark corners for hidden threats, but there aren't any, and he is quickly fussing over a severely injured Derek and the two smaller forms which are wrapped around him. Isaac steps into the vault much slower, looking around the room almost out of pure curiosity before he makes his way toward Derek and his pack mates. Erica is passed out, so he takes her slumped form first, lifting her with relative ease. Scott doesn't say a word as he helps Boyd up, just slings the taller boy's arm over his shoulders and supports his weight as he sways.

When Peter finally enters the vault, he silently offers a hand to Derek, who examines it as if, in the time he's been away, his uncle might have contracted some kind of disease. Isaac would laugh if he weren't suddenly so exhausted, so he stays quiet as Derek takes Peter's hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

The trip out of and away from the bank is – much to everyone's surprise – free of ambushes or threats. No one says a word the entire time, which unsettles Isaac only a little. Erica wakes before they reach the loft, but snuggles close and falls back asleep when she sees who is carrying her. The trip back seems much shorter than the trip there, and when they arrive Isaac is shocked to see that barely more than an hour has passed. He follows Derek, who insisted halfway through the return trip that he could walk without Peter's assistance, into the loft, where Stiles and Danny are seated at the table. Stiles is on his feet the moment he sees Derek, rushing over to help the larger man to the couch. Derek doesn't wave off the help like he did to his uncle, and lets Stiles support his weight as the fall down onto the cushions. Stiles begins talking in hurried, rushed tones immediately, but Isaac turns his attention away, carrying Erica up the spiral stairs.

He's tucking her into his own bed carefully when Scott and Boyd enter. The larger wolf immediately takes his place beside the blonde on Isaac's bed, curling next to her and stroking her hair, no longer concerned with his own injuries. Isaac watches them for a long moment, numb and relieved at the same time, before going out into the hall with Scott.

“We should let them rest,” Scott states the obvious, but Isaac can't find it in himself to contest, instead he nods a silent agreement and follows the other teen back down the stairs. Isaac notices immediately that Peter is nowhere to be seen, but resists commenting on it and makes a mental note to text the man later. Scott has moved across the room to Danny, who looks a bit frazzled but no worse for wear as he sips at a can of soda that must have come out of Derek's fridge. Isaac sees it's twin abandoned on the table where Stiles left it, the hyperactive teen still hovering near Derek's side, getting up every few minutes to fetch him water, a clean towel, or a blanket. Isaac sits on the stairs and rests his head in his hands, letting the emotional and physical exhaustion pour over him and tuning out the soft conversations being carried on near him.

He's startled by someone touching his shoulder what he thinks is only a moment later, but when he looks up he sees that Danny is gone, the table is cleared, and Derek is asleep on the couch. Scott pulls his hand back from Isaac's shoulder with a small smile, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Hey, we're heading home now. Are you going to be okay here on your own?” He hears the genuine concern in Scott's tone and it makes him feel, somehow, better about everything. He rakes a hand through his hair and glances to Stiles who is standing by the door waiting for Scott before turning his attention back to the darker-haired teen.

“Yeah, I think so. Derek won't be down for long, and I'll call you if anything happens,” he replies easily, ignoring the small voice in his head that says 'but I'll call Peter first'. Scott doesn't seem entirely satisfied with this answer, but he lets it go for now, saying a quiet goodbye before heading out the door with Stiles. Isaac watches the metal door slide shut, and for the first time in months, listens to the breathing and the heartbeats of his pack.

He stays there for a while longer before the position begins to cause an ache in his muscles, which he stretches out as he stands. A quick trek up the stairs and a peek into his room has him reassured that yes, today was real, and Erica and Boyd are alive, if not completely well yet. He tells himself to let them rest, like Scott said, and returns back to the living room, taking the unoccupied couch in the space across from Derek.

Isaac removes his phone from his pocket as he sits, staring at the bright screen blankly for a long moment before pulling open his apps, flipping through games and puzzles, anything to distract himself. He wishes, briefly, that he had put Erica and Boyd in Derek's room, so he could listen to his music to fill the silence, but settles for playing a few rounds of sudoku on his phone instead. His fifth game is interrupted by his phone vibrating under his finger as he adds another number to the puzzle, and he closes the game quickly to look at his messages. In his recent conversations, Scott's name is highlighted, so he slides his finger over the screen to open the window.

_Still doing okay?_

Isaac can't help the small smile that the other boy's concern brings out, and types a quick reply,

_All still sleeping._

He hits send and closes the conversation, moving to put his phone down. He hesitates when he sees Peter's name in his recent list, and opens the conversation before he can stop himself. His thumb hovers above the keyboard as he decides what to type, but finally settles for,

_Thanks for helping today._

He presses send before he can talk himself out of it and gets up, shoving his phone into his pocket as he moves quietly into the kitchen. He roots around in the refrigerator for a while before pulling out the fixings for grilled cheese. He's setting a pan on the stove and lighting the burner when his phone buzzes, making him jump, but he digs the device out a moment later and opens the conversation anxiously.

_How are they?_

Isaac stares at the reply, unsure if the man is asking out of actual concern for his nephew and the other wolves, or if he's asking out of politeness. He types and sends the reply,

_Fine. Sleeping now._

He takes a deep breath and considers his next message carefully before adding,

_I want to talk about the other day._

The reply doesn't come immediately, and Isaac has made his sandwich and returned to the living room by the time his phone finally buzzes again.

_What about it?_

Isaac makes himself take his time eating his sandwich and wipes his hands off on his jeans before picking the phone up to type out a reply.

_Why do you think it was a mistake?_

He sets his phone down and drums his fingers on his knees for a while, looking up at the ceiling and watching the sun getting lower and lower in the sky through the large windows at the front of the loft. Derek stirs briefly, and wakes fully a moment later, looking around the apartment and at Isaac before sitting up slowly.

“Hey,” he says, and Isaac can't help the small smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey,” the teen replies, watching his Alpha stretch and survey some of his worse wounds. Isaac taps his fingers on his knee and Derek looks up, giving him a look full of exhaustion and relief. “Erica and Boyd are sleeping in my room. You should head upstairs and get some rest. Scott and I can fill you in tomorrow.”

For once, the Alpha doesn't seem to disagree, and takes his time pulling himself from the couch and up the stairs. Isaac hears his phone buzz across the table, but doesn't pick it up until he hears Derek's bedroom door shut. He clicks the message open immediately and bites his lip at the words there.

_Because you're my nephew's beta? Because you're underage? Because your friends all think I'm a psychopathic killer? Take your pick._

Isaac frowns at his screen, fingers itching to type a reply, but the words aren't coming to him now. He's saved from having to answer as his phone buzzes again and the new message pops up.

_If the circumstances were different, we wouldn't be having this conversation._

He knows then what he wants to say, all of the many things he wants to ask the other beta, but settles for one thing at a time.

_Would you do it again? If the circumstances were different, I mean._

The reply comes faster than he'd anticipated, and he takes a moment before looking at it. When he does, he feels his heart start beating harder.

_God, yes._

Isaac bites his lip again, wondering what to reply with this time, and decides – after warring with himself for a solid minute or two – to quit holding back.

_I want to do it again._

The next answer is slower, and Isaac nearly has a panic attack waiting for Peter's reply. When he gets it, he can't help the short laugh that escapes him.

_That's dangerous territory, pup. Quit while you're ahead._

Isaac nearly sets his phone down and leaves it at that, but a part of his brain is egging him on, and he can't resist the final text he sends the older man.

_What, afraid you can't keep up with me?_

He pulls a throw blanket down from the back of the couch and wraps himself in it, curling up and getting comfortable. His eyes are drifting shut and he's starting to doze when the next text comes through.

_Is that a challenge?_

He smirks at his phone, sleep-dumb fingers typing slowly at the keys on the screen.

_You know what? Yeah, it is._

He sets his phone down again on the coffee table and lets his head fall back against the couch cushions, finally letting sleep take him. He doesn't dream at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still taking suggestions for music at [my blog](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask), feel free to drop me a message about the fic or anything over there! I love you guys, see you again soon!


	14. Challenge Accepted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Also, I changed the main summary of the fic, but it's still the same fic so don't...panic, or anything. It's okay.
> 
> Here's the next installment! Thanks again for your patience and all of the wonderful music suggestions and comments that you guys have given me. I love you so much!
> 
> There's some more sloppy sexy makeouts this chapter. Enjoy those.
> 
> And here's your playlist for this chapter! It got away from me a little bit.
> 
> 1\. Pierces - Sticks And Stones  
> 2\. Fitz & The Tantrums - The Walker  
> 3\. OK GO - Invincible  
> 4\. Grace Potter and the Nocturnals - Paris (Ooh La La)  
> 5\. Bastille - Haunt  
> 6\. The Black Keys - Howlin' For You  
> 7\. Natalia Kills - Trouble

The first thing Isaac notices when he wakes up is the warm smell of cooking food floating in from the kitchen. The second thing he notices is the pair of voices talking softly across the room at the table. Yesterday's events come back to him in a rush, and suddenly he's falling to the floor in his rush to get off the couch where he fell asleep the night before. He knocks his knee against the coffee table and curses under his breath before darting across the room into the arms of his pack mates. Erica wraps her arms around him first, pulling him close to her and he buries his face in her hair, breathing deeply. Boyd wraps his arms around the both of them much more gently, and they stay in the embrace for much longer than Isaac expected either of them to tolerate. When they break apart a moment later, Isaac takes his time inspecting each of them carefully, checking for wounds that haven't yet healed, but they appear to be in top form yet again.

“You're healed?” He questions, unable to stop himself. From the damage they looked to have taken, he would have expected days of recovery, not one night.

“Being near your pack helps,” Derek remarks from where he's leaning against the kitchen door frame, spatula in hand and an almost serene look on his face. “Breakfast is ready, come on.”

Isaac joins his betas in the race to the kitchen, but lets Erica win, reaching the table full of plates piled high with pancakes, bacon, sausages, and eggs. The three seat themselves and begin digging in as Derek pours glasses of orange juice for each of them and a cup of coffee for himself. The four eat in relative silence, punctuated mostly by Erica's occasional commentary on how delicious the food is, how much she missed real home cooking, and eventually joking quips about Derek being domesticated.

Everyone is slowing down on filling themselves to stuffing when the main door slides open and all three of the betas freeze. Boyd begins growling deep in his throat, and Derek stands slowly, making his way toward the kitchen doorway. Before he reaches it, Peter comes sauntering through the doorway like he was invited in, and Derek and the betas deflate almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?” Derek attempts his angriest tone, and Isaac can tell he's only slightly grateful for Peter's help in rescuing them the day before. Peter ignores the question and moves past his nephew to the coffee pot, where he pours a cup of coffee. Derek is watching him, arms crossed, even as the older man moves to take the Alpha's seat at the table, passing the freshly poured coffee to Isaac without a word. He picks up the remainder of Derek's food and begins eating it, apparently unaware of the three betas that are staring at him, Erica's gaze darting between Peter, Isaac, and the cup of dark liquid in his hands. The teen looks down to avoid her gaze and sips at the coffee, enjoying the warmth and the bitterness of it, before Derek moves over and takes his uncles shoulder in a tight, rough grip.

“Peter,” he growls a warning, and the older man sits back, having the audacity to look affronted.

“Derek. I'm having breakfast with my pack.”

“This is _not_ your pack.”

“Uh, Derek? Seriously, who is this?” Erica chimes, gaze shifting between the two men. Derek glares at the back of the man's head, jaw clenched tight, and Isaac can see the vein throbbing in the Alpha's neck when he chances a glance up.

“This is Derek's reportedly sociopathic, murderous uncle Peter,” Isaac offers to the other betas quietly, and Peter practically leers across the table at him. 

“Your _dead_ uncle?” Boyd asks Derek, who nods stiffly, fists clenching behind Peter's back. The older man picks up Derek's coffee cup and sips at it, looking smug. Isaac clears his throat and excuses himself quietly, picking up his dishes and carrying them to the sink before exiting the still quiet kitchen. He grabs his phone from where he left it on the table the night before, then moves up the stairs into his room, throwing himself down onto his bed.

He checks his phone and sees his conversation with Peter from the night before, lit up with an unread message that came through after he had fallen asleep. He takes a breath and opens the message, letting all of his air out at once when he reads it.

_Challenge accepted, pup._

With shaking fingers, he drops his phone onto the floor beside his bed and sits up, moving to pick a random record from the crate and putting it onto the player. It crackles as it begins to spin, the first notes of music coming out as he takes a deep breath and exhales, dropping himself back down onto his bed. He closes his eyes and listens to the music, trying to tune out his own thoughts and the muted conversations carrying through the floorboards. He's still laying on his bed several songs later when he hears Erica's light and quick footsteps on the stairs. She peeks into his room, smiling broadly at the sight of him, and he can't help the relieved smile that crosses his face when he sees her there, just being happy and alive.

“Derek wants to talk to Scott, we're going over with him. Do you want to come?” She asks as she closes the space between them and proceeds to prod his foot with one of hers. She pokes him several times, waiting for a response, and he laughs softly, kicking at her foot.

“No, I didn't sleep well, and I have a paper due on Friday I really need to work on,” he gives her the half-honest answer, accompanied with an apologetic look. “I'll see you guys when you get back.” She nods, giving his foot one last little kick before turning and sweeping out of his room in the same way she always has, gliding like a queen, and he smiles after her for a long time, still shell-shocked over everything that had happened.

He lays for a few more songs, taking deep breaths and letting them out in long, slow exhales. When he hears a noise on the floor below, his eyes flick open immediately and he holds his breath, listening harder for more sounds. The noise creeps up the steps, and Isaac sits up slowly, staring at the open frame of his doorway until Peter comes into view, a small amused smirk on his face.

“Relax, pup, it's just me,” his voice is so low and quiet that Isaac has a hard time distinguishing it from the music for a moment, but he does relax immediately, sinking back against his pillows and letting his eyes fall shut again.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks the older beta, not bothering to give the other his gaze while talking to him, but Peter doesn't seem to mind, sinking down to sit next to Isaac. He feels a circle of tingling heat radiating from the spots where Peter's left hip touches his right, or where their knees knock together. He comes back to himself in time to hear Peter talking.

“Well, Derek wanted to take the other pups out for a walk, and I thought you could use some company, someone to talk to,” he explains, giving a vague gesture with his hand as if it will fill in the gaps. Isaac snorts, shifting onto his side and leaning up onto his elbow to look up at where Peter is propped against the wall.

“Someone to talk to? Seriously, is that the best you've got?” He can't help the smirk or the playful tone he uses with the other, but Peter's own innocent smile widens a fraction and his eyebrows raise a little.

“I thought it was clever,” the older man mumbles, raising his hand and moving it slowly, cautiously, toward Isaac. The teen watches the hand, perfectly human, move toward his face, but doesn't move to stop it. Peter takes Isaac's chin between his fingers gently, gaze shifting up from his lips to his eyes and back down again quickly. Isaac's breath catches in his throat as Peter's tongue darts out to wet his lips. The older man moves his thumb up and across Isaac's lower lip slowly, gently pulling at the flesh of it, and Isaac's breath stutters out against his skin, making the corner of Peter's mouth twitch. Isaac smiles into the touch and darts his tongue out to lav at the man's thumb before taking it gently between his teeth, licking at the tip of it before pressing a kiss to the digit and pulling away. They lock gazes for a moment, Isaac marveling at how wide Peter's pupils are. Peter pulls his hand away from Isaac's face, moving it lower to hover above the teen's hip. Isaac glances down toward the man's hand before looking back at his face, licking his lips. He lifts himself up a little more, off his elbow to lean on his hand instead, and finds himself closer to Peter's level now. He huffs a quiet laugh, lifting his own free hand up to curl his fingers into the front of the man's shirt, watching the motion of his hand before looking up again as Peter's hand finally comes to settle on his hip.

“Are we making a mistake?” Isaac whispers after a moment, gaze flickering between Peter's eyes and mouth, the corner of which twitches a little at the question.

“Probably,” comes the reply as they each lean in a bit closer.

“Am I going to regret this?” Isaac asks now, closing his eyes as his nose meets the older man's.

“Definitely,” Peter breathes out before leaning forward and sealing the kiss, grip tightening on Isaac's hip as the other leans up into him enthusiastically, tugging on Peter's shirt and pulling him closer to his own body. Isaac whimpers softly into the gesture as Peter's hand rakes up his side, making him shiver and pull out of the kiss suddenly. Peter leans forward more, trying to keep the teen's lips within reach and chuckling quietly.

“Done already?” His taunting tone is deeper and laced with something that makes Isaac's spine chill, but the teen shakes his head and lunges forward into a second kiss, pressing insistently at Peter's mouth with his own, fingers moving up from the man's shirt, sliding up the side of his neck and wrapping tightly into his hair. Peter groans softly at this, moving his hand up the teen's side and around to his back, and Isaac arches into the touch with a quiet gasp. Peter takes advantage of the opportunity to dart his tongue into the others' mouth, flicking across his teeth and lips. The younger wolf growls softly at this, nipping at Peter's tongue and making the older man smirk into the kiss.

“Behave yourself, pup,” he whispers against the teen's lips, licking them slowly before kissing the other again, clawed fingers pressing at Isaac's back between his shoulder blades. He feels Isaac's fingers twisting in his hair and moans at the sensation, pulling his mouth away to press it to the teen's lean neck instead, sucking and biting hard with blunt teeth, leaving dark, angry-red marks on the pale skin. He begins leaving a trail of slowly fading hickeys on Isaac's neck, starting at the corner of his jaw and working down over his pulse and throat. The teen moans loudly at one particularly sharp bite at his throat, and Peter practically purrs at the reaction, pulling Isaac closer and biting at his shoulder through his shirt, trying to illicit the same response again. The moan comes out as a soft sigh this time, and Peter smirks against the skin of Isaac's neck before pulling away, moving his hand down to tug insistently at the hem of the teen's shirt. Isaac pushes himself up to fully sitting and pulls the garment over his head, tossing it over his shoulder while watching Peter survey the newly revealed expanse of skin.

When the older beta looks up again, he meets Isaac's gaze with a smirk, hand reaching out to gently trace the line of his collarbones, moving down his chest and stomach. Isaac holds back a gasp but can't suppress a shiver as Peter's hand trails over his abs and back up, stopping at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Isaac lunges forward again, claiming Peter's lips in a heated, demanding kiss that the man returns with vigor, pulling Isaac toward him until the teen is straddling his thighs. Isaac slides his hands up Peter's shoulders, one pushing back up into his hair, gripping at it in an attempt to control the kiss. To his surprise, the older man gives him the control he seeks, but keeps his hands locked firmly onto Isaac's hips, groaning when the teen grinds down against him. Isaac tugs at the short hair at the back of Peter's head once more for good measure before pulling away and tugging at the man's shirt, instead. Peter smirks breathlessly, but removes his hands from the others' hips long enough to tug his own shirt off and toss it aside, gasping when Isaac's fingers immediately spread out over the uncovered skin. Isaac quickly replaces his fingertips with his mouth, pressing soft, chaste kisses over Peter's neck, chest, and abs, darting his tongue out occasionally to lick at the skin, eliciting quiet hums of pleasure.

Both freeze when Isaac's phone falls from the bed, buzzing and playing a default ring tone loudly, and Isaac jerks away first, sliding off the bed and scooting across the floor to pick up the device. He clears his throat and slides his finger across the screen, turning to face Peter as he brings the phone to his ear.

“Hey Derek,” he greets, trying to keep his tone light, but Peter can hear the roughness of it and smirks. Isaac flips his middle finger up at the man quickly before dropping his hand back into his lap. He listens to his alpha talk for a moment, expression neutral.

“Already?” he asks, looking up at Peter, slightly startled. “No, sorry, I just thought you were going to stay longer. It's fine.”

Peter raises an eyebrow at the teen but doesn't say anything, even when Isaac picks up the older man's shirt and hurls it at him, scrambling to stand.

“Okay, sure, no problem,” he says a bit hurriedly into the phone before hitting a button on it and dropping it onto the bed beside Peter. The older man smirks, lifting his shirt in question. Isaac scowls at him and needlessly tells him, “They're going to be back in ten minutes.”

The older wolf sighs deeply as Isaac flutters around his room, not seeming to know what he's trying to accomplish with the movement. He grabs the teen by the wrist and pulls him close, pressing their chests flush. He leans in close and nips at Isaac's lower lip, grinning at the quiet noise he makes in response.

“Calm down, pup. Go take a shower,” his voice is practically crooning, and Isaac leans into the others' warmth, nuzzling at his cheek gently.

“I don't want to,” he replies, voice still low and rough. He licks at the side of Peter's neck and gasps when the other man grips his hips roughly in response. He grins and does it again, laughing this time when Peter presses their hips together.

“Do you want Derek to smell me on you?” Peter tries, bringing one hand up and pushing at Isaac's chest gently until the teen begins to step back. Isaac looks him in the eye, smirking a little despite himself.

“Yeah, actually,” he says, and laughs when Peter's face falls a little, reassuring him, “But not today.”

Peter relaxes slightly, leaning in to give the teen one more teasing kiss before pushing at him again.

“Go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the younger wolf grumbles, grabbing a towel and pair of pants from the floor before ducking out the room. Peter watches him go, dropping back down onto the bed when he hears the water of the shower start running. He rests his head in his hands and laughs lowly, fingers raking through his hair.

“Too easy.”


	15. Stupid Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I've been on a real roll with updating this, haven't I? The muses have really been biting at my ankles to get this going, so I'm going with it for as long as inspiration strikes.
> 
> Things get a little hot in this chapter (hotter than before), meaning the rating is now up up up. Check the updated tags for some more information/warnings about what goes down in this chapter and later ones, as well.
> 
> Here's your playlist for this chapter:  
> 1\. Lera Lynn - Wolf Like Me  
> 2\. Conner Youngblood - The Warpath  
> 3\. The Hoosiers - Worried About Ray  
> 4\. The Beatles - I Want You (She's So Heavy)  
> 5\. Jack White - Love Is Blindness  
> 6\. Dead Man's Bones - Lose Your Soul
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

When Isaac steps out of the shower, he hears Derek and the pack downstairs, as well as Scott and Stiles. He takes his time drying off and dressing in the clean, Peter-free clothes he grabbed before, listening to the dull sounds of discussion and laughter floating through the floor. When he can't put it off any longer, he hangs his towel over the shower curtain rod and begins the trek downstairs. He pauses at the half-way point, looking out over the room. Erica and Boyd are sitting so close together on one of the couches, Isaac thinks they might morph into one person soon. Derek and Stiles are sitting on the other couch, not quite as close together, but still closer than Isaac thinks they realize. Scott is on the floor at one end of the coffee table, flipping through a worn-out looking book, a notebook sitting abandoned to the side. Isaac finishes his decent down the stairs, smiling at Boyd and Erica when they wave him over to share their couch. He takes a seat on the far side of the couch from them, but tangles his feet up with theirs, enjoying the feeling of the closeness of pack.

“Have you gotten any farther on that English paper?” Scott asks him when he sits, and Isaac scratches the back of his head sheepishly.

“Not really, I've been sort of distracted,” he admits, and ignores the sharp look that Stiles gives him from across the table. Scott nods and goes back to flipping through the book, which Isaac can see now is a book of myths and mythology from different regions. Stiles turns his gaze back down to the laptop in his lap that Derek is leaning closer to see, and Isaac feels his curiosity peak.

“What are you doing?” He asks, kicking gently at Boyd's feet. The other teen kicks back lightly, but smiles a little at the contact.

“Research,” Stiles grunts noncommittally, and Derek raises an eyebrow at the teen for his bluntness.

“Boyd and I don't remember anything about the people who took us,” Erica fills in the gap, but leaves more of them.

“You mean the alpha pack?” Isaac asks, looking between Erica and Derek, and Derek nods curtly, keeping his eyes on the laptop screen as he and Stiles read. He turns his attention back to Boyd and Erica. “You don't remember anything?”

The two share a look, and Boyd shakes his head. “Nothing. We remember the vault, being there for what felt like forever.”

“But nothing about them,” Erica finishes, lacing her fingers through Boyd's and bringing his hand up to her mouth, kissing the back of it gently before dropping it, keeping their fingers locked. Isaac watches the motion and feels a number of conflicting emotions, jealousy the most prominent. He pushes it down and looks away, glancing around the loft.

“Where's Peter?” He asks himself before he can stop, and Stiles slams the laptop shut suddenly, making the five wolves jump. Isaac realizes his mistake when Stiles locks him with an almost murderous expression, face already flaring red with anger.

“What's with all of the interest in Peter, huh? If it's some kind of compulsion that you're drawn to people who are dangerous and life-threatening, then you really need to get that looked at,” the teen spits vehemently, and Isaac feels his fingertips prickling with the want to release his claws.

“Excuse me for giving him a second glance when all the rest of you treat him like he has the plague,” Isaac bites back, eyes glowing, and Derek sits up a little straighter, stern gaze resting on his beta. Scott watches the exchange with a serious expression, and Erica and Boyd have fallen silent, staring at Isaac like he's grown another head.

“Isaac,” Derek warns, but Stiles cuts him off as he sets the laptop aside and stands.

“Is it seriously not sinking in for you? He _killed people_. He tried to kill _us_! It's not rocket science, you'd have to be an idiot to trust him,” Stiles shouts, waving his hands as he tries to articulate his anger. Derek reaches up and grabs one of Stile's hands gently, stopping it's motion, but his gaze is still on Isaac, who growls deep in his throat and stands as well.

“You're right, I must be some kind of idiot to trust him when all he's done is help me,” comes the retort, sharp and tinted with a growl. Stiles doesn't back down, even takes a step closer.

“Help you? Right, because feeling you up and making out with you is really helping,” Stiles hisses, and Isaac see's Derek's eyes flash red now. Scott tenses and stands as well, moving to hold out a hand to Isaac's chest as the other wolf takes a step forward.

“Isaac,” Derek says again, pitch lower and eyes lit up red, gaze locked on his beta. Isaac continues to snarl at Stiles, but lets Scott's hand on his chest hold him back. “Is this true?”

Isaac swallows and clenches his fists, shifting his gaze from Stiles to Derek slowly. He takes a deep breath and lets it out before slowly shaking his head. Derek's eyes narrow, and he stands as well, pushing Stiles behind him. The teen glares over his shoulder at Isaac but doesn't protest.

“Isaac. Tell me the truth,” his alpha commands, and Isaac feels a shudder run through him, eyes flashing gold again before returning to normal, claws retracting.

“Yeah, I,” he swallows hard when a low, guttural growl comes from his alpha. “I kissed him. J-Just once, it was a stupid mistake and I, I won't do it again.”

Derek stops growling abruptly, but his eyes are still alpha-red. Isaac flinches instinctively when the older man moves, but watches, confused, as Derek turns and walks stiffly to the door of the loft and exits. Isaac glances back toward Stiles, who shoots him a look that could kill before hurrying off after Derek. Isaac takes a shaky breath, and realizes that Scott's hand is still on his chest. He meet's Scott's eyes after a moment, and finds them normal, but narrowed. The other teen drops his hand slowly, but doesn't break eye contact.

“Scott?” Isaac asks after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Scott takes a step back, shaking his head slightly.

“Your heartbeat,” the shorter beta says softly, expression slowly morphing into one of disappointment. “You lied. Tell me the truth.”

Isaac opens his mouth to reply, but can't find the words. He sinks back down to the couch with a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand across his face as he tries to work up the courage.

“It wasn't just once,” he says quietly, and doesn't look up to gauge Scott's reaction when the other doesn't make a sound. “And I,” he stops suddenly, nervous laughter bubbling up in his throat and threatening to escape. He shoves it down and takes another deep breath, “I want to do it again.”

He still won't meet Scott's eyes, and after a moment, the other walks out silently, leaving Isaac on the couch with his stunned-silent pack mates. A few moments pass in steady silence before Erica moves beside him and wraps her arms around his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. He sighs and leans his head against hers, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. When she finally pulls away, she presses her hand to his cheek and turns his head firmly to meet her gaze. She brushes his hair back from his forehead and wipes his cheeks, but doesn't say anything, and Isaac feels like he's suffocating.

“I'm such an idiot,” he whispers finally, voice cracking on the last word, and Erica immediately shushes him, pulling him towards her and hugging him tightly.

“Shut up, puppy, you're not an idiot. You made a mistake, we all do it,” she coos softly, combing her fingers through his hair gently.

“It wasn't just a one-time thing,” Isaac mumbles against her shoulder, feeling pitiful. He can see Boyd watching them and closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the other boy's concern. “I...I liked it. I didn't want to stop. He's been so nice to me, Erica, and I-”

His breath stutters on an inhale and she holds him tighter still as he lets the breath out in a sob. “Shh, puppy, it's okay.”

Isaac isn't sure how long he leans against Erica and cries, but he feels lightheaded and exhausted when he finally pulls away. She gives his head another quiet, soothing stroke before standing and moving towards the door. Probably to check on the others, Isaac thinks, closing his eyes when Boyd moves to stand as well, putting a heavy, soothing hand atop his head for just a moment before joining Erica. Isaac hears the door slide shut behind them and the sudden, unnerving quiet of the loft jars him. He shuffles across the empty room to the stairs, taking them slowly as he climbs. When he reaches his room and throws himself down onto his bed, the first thing he smells is Peter. The smell makes his chest tighten and his stomach turn, but he buries his face into his pillow and inhales deeply, anyway, letting himself be engulfed, even for a moment, but the comfort of the older wolf's scent.

He rolls over only when he hears his phone chime somewhere nearby, and has to dig through his blankets and some laundry to find it. When he does, he opens the conversation with Peter that is lit up with a new message eagerly.

_When can we pick up where we left off?_

Isaac snuffles a small laugh out, wiping his face with the back of his hand before typing out a reply.

_Probably never. Stiles told Derek and everyone about us._

He hesitates to hit send, looking at the message for a long time and feeling a fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he begins to deeply consider the implications of the word “us”. He decides to change the wording.

_Probably never. Stiles told Derek and everyone about what's been going on._

He hits send and moves to his crate of records, digging around for something, anything to listen to. He comes up with a Beatles record and looks it over for a moment before putting it on to play, not really caring at this point as long as he doesn't have to sit in silence. He leans back and closes his eyes, listening to the music until his phone chimes again with a new message.

_I knew that kid was going to be a pain in the ass. Don't worry, pup. It'll blow over soon._

Isaac frowns, typing out a reply quickly and hitting send.

_I don't think it will._

He lays his head back and closes his eyes again, letting himself get tangled up in the music and the scent of Peter. His phone rings half a song later, and he looks at it, slightly startled, before picking up.

“Tell me about it,” Peter's voice says, light with an undertone of sinister, making Isaac's skin tingle. He lays back again on his pillow and looks up at his ceiling.

“I told Derek it wouldn't happen again, but he could tell I was lying,” Isaac says, biting his lip afterward and waiting nervously for the man's reaction. Peter only laughs, low and sultry, and Isaac feels a jolt of arousal run through him.

“So you really did enjoy it,” Peter sounds amused now, and Isaac scoffs lightly, trying to sound nonchalant, but not really succeeding.

“Of course I did,” he mumbles, lacking the confidence he typically tries to boast. He can hear a happy rumble from Peter's end and smiles slightly. “The others have all gone out, I'm not sure what they're doing...”

Isaac isn't sure why he confesses this to the older man, but suddenly feels bashful about it, feeling his cheeks flush pink. Peter's mischievous chuckle tells him it was somehow the right thing to say.

“Is that so?” Isaac can hear the croon in his voice and shudders slightly, biting his lip more as he feels a tingle of pleasure run down his spine. “Well, that would certainly be one way to get away with it.”

“What?” he hears himself ask it, but doesn't really register the question, feeling his eyelids drooping heavily with sleepiness and arousal, moving his free hand down to adjust himself where he's started to get hard in his boxers. He bites his lip to avoid making a noise at the sudden contact and pulls his hand back quickly.

“Phone sex,” Peter says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world, and Isaac splutters helplessly. He can practically hear the smirk in Peter's tone as he carries on, “Derek won't be able to smell me on you, you won't get in trouble with your friends...”

“Derek pays my phone bill. He'd have access to my call records, and I'm sure he's going to be checking them after this afternoon's blow up,” he grumbles, but feels his face and neck flushed hot from the others' words.

“Isaac,” the purr in the other man's voice is completely unfair, Isaac reasons as he lets out a small sound that he intends to be an affirmative noise, but sounds more like a moan instead. “You don't have to be shy. Tell me what you want.”

Isaac's breath catches in his throat and he makes another small sound, moving his hand down again to rub himself through his jeans. He undoes his fly quickly, darting his hand into his boxers to get flesh-on-flesh contact, rubbing his rapidly hardening length. He lets out a small puff of air as Peter repeats his name, tone lower and more gravelly than Isaac has ever heard it.

“I-I want you to fuck me,” Isaac says into the phone breathlessly, darting his tongue out to wet his lips as he pulls another deep breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh. Peter hums tonelessly through the phone and Isaac can picture the look on his face. “I want you to hold me down and have your way with me.”

Peter lets out a soft grunt this time, and Isaac groans in response to his own ministrations, stroking himself quickly and firmly. He gasps at one stroke that brings his thumb across the head of his dick and arches his head back, listening to Peter's breathing on the other line.

“What else, Isaac?” He asks, and Isaac finds himself almost panting, slowing down his strokes to think.

“What else?” He parrots, much more breathless than the other man. He considers this for a moment, letting himself close his eyes and picture the older man, and all the things Isaac suddenly realizes he wants Peter to do to him. “I want- I want you to mark me, make me yours, make me your beta.” Isaac inhales sharply as he gives himself a firm squeeze, the speed of his strokes increasing again as realization dawns. 

“You want me to be your alpha?” Peter's voice has pitched even lower, and the low timbre of it makes Isaac whine with need. He can feel himself getting close, painfully close, and he bites back a loud moan.

“Yes, god, yes,” he gasps, running clawed fingertips up his abs and back down, gripping himself again and stroking firmly, once, twice-

“Help make me the alpha, Isaac,” Peter's tone is firm, and Isaac feels almost like it's an order. “And I will give you everything you want.”

Isaac gasps, releasing all of his breath in a loud moan as he comes, splattering his stomach and hand. He strokes a few times more, milking his orgasm, before letting his hand drop to the bed beside him. He breathes heavily for a few moments, before remembering the phone still pressed to his ear.

“Peter,” he says, voice tight, and the man hums again, the low rumble threatening and sexy in his ear.

“Will you help me, Isaac?” Peter asks, and Isaac looks at his hand, his stomach, and across the room to the crate of records. He takes a deep breath.

“Yes. I'll help you.”


	16. Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm seriously on a roll with updating this baby, as I mentioned before. Still not sure how long it's going to last, but I'm pushing myself to write a little bit of it every day, so hopefully it'll really get going soon.
> 
> This chapter has a lot of Erica. I love Erica, and my feelings and headcanons about her are endless. Seriously endless. So there's a little bit of that here. Other than Erica, there's a lot of domesticity and awkward feelings this chapter, but it rolls around into something better toward the end.
> 
> This is probably where I should give you guys a huge, HUGE, **HUGE** thank you and shout out for being so great and patient with me, even through my down-months. This fic has grown much bigger than I ever expected it to, and it's all thanks to you guys for reading, commenting, and being so supportive. I can't thank you all enough for helping to really bring my creativity back out of hiding.
> 
> Another quick note: I'm absolutely FREAKING OUT because of how close we are to 5,000 hits on this?! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. Once I hit 5,000 hits for real, I'll do something special to celebrate. You guys are great. ♥
> 
> Without any further ado, here's your playlist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. IAMX - The Stupid, The Proud  
> 2\. The Raconteurs - Hold Up  
> 3\. The Cure - Treasure  
> 4\. Green Day - Wow! That's Loud  
> 5\. Capital Cities - Chasing You  
> 6\. Mother Mother - Arms Tonite
> 
> Enjoy!

The rest of the day after the phone call was oddly normal. Isaac took another shower, returned to his room, switched records, and finished his paper on Persephone and Hades. He's closing his notebook and stuffing it into his backpack when he hears the door to the loft sliding open, and pauses to listen. He hears Derek enter first, and keeps his head down as the alpha's footsteps move up the stairs and down the hall into his room. He only looks up when a second, lighter pair of footsteps follows, and watches as Stiles passes by his open doorway before disappearing into Derek's room, the door shutting with a click behind him.

Isaac wrinkles his nose slightly at this, but returns to packing up his backpack. He supposed that taking two days off from school was enough, more than enough, really, and was glad at least that he'd be returning in time to turn his paper in before the weekend. He was broken out of his thoughts by Erica's light footsteps on the stairs and her peeking her head around the door frame, golden curls tumbling over her shoulder.

“Hey handsome,” she greets, ruby lips curling into a wide smile. He hasn't quite worked up the courage to look the rest of the pack in the eye after the earlier blow-up, but offers a small, withering smile before returning to shoving books into his bag. “Whoa, hey, what kind of look is that when an actual goddess is standing in your room?”

Isaac looks up with a small puff of a laugh, this time making eye contact with Erica as she plants her hands on her hips, standing just inside his door. He shakes his head and tosses his bag aside, and she moves across the room, taking a seat beside him on the bed.

“What's up, puppy?” She coos, automatically carding her fingers into his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. Isaac closes his eyes and lets out a sigh.

“Nothing, just...I still feel like shit because of earlier,” he admits, tilting his head forward slightly as she rakes her fingers back and forth through his hair. She sighs and leans into him, bumping his shoulder with her own.

“Don't stress about it. I'm sure things will blow over sooner or later,” she says, kissing the side of his head above his ear, and he grunts softly in reply.

“If only,” he mumbles, and she moves her hand from his hair, wrapping her arm around his shoulders instead.

“Hey, how about you come help me make dinner? Boyd is still out talking to Scott and I have no idea where anything in this place is,” she suggests, standing and pulling him up with her. He rolls his head back and sighs, but doesn't say no as she begins tugging him down the stairs behind her, fingers now locked around his wrist.

“Boyd is talking to Scott?” He asks when they reach the main floor and she makes straight for the kitchen, him following closely behind.

“Yeah, we both did a little damage control on your behalf,” she says offhandedly, as if it's no big deal, but Isaac stops just short of the kitchen, and she turns to look at him quizzically. “What?”

“Damage control? What are you talking about?” He questions, lowering his voice slightly, still hyper-aware of Derek and Stiles upstairs, although the two seem to be silent, and Isaac can't tell if Derek is listening or not. Erica moves back towards him and takes his hands in hers, looking up at him with a small, but genuine smile.

“Isaac, we care about you. All of us do, even if Derek is a hardass and sucks at expressing his feelings,” she raises her voice slightly over the last half of the sentence, looking towards the stairs, and Isaac can't help but laugh softly. “The point is, I don't know what's been going on with you and this guy-”

“Peter,” Isaac interrupts almost immediately, and her smile widens a fraction.

“Peter,” she corrects, nodding slightly, “But what I do know is that I've never seen you look happier than you do when you talk about him, and if he makes you happy, then he can't be all bad, right?” Isaac takes a breath, closing his eyes and holding the air in his lungs before releasing it as he opens his eyes again. 

“You don't understand,” he starts, but Erica cuts him off with a soft slap to the back of his hand.

“Don't you start that brooding teenager 'you don't understand' bullshit with me,” she chides, and he laughs again, smiling at her. She returns the smile with a grin of her own, petting his hand where she slapped it. “Derek and Stiles told us everything.”

“Everything?” Isaac asks, incredulous, and Erica nods.

“Everything. And even knowing what we do now, I still say you should do what you want. If he makes you happy, then why should we care?” Isaac smiles, nodding slightly, and Erica releases his hands.

“I'm sure Derek doesn't agree with you, but...thanks,” he says, leaning in to give her a light peck on the cheek, rubbing their faces together briefly. She pulls away with an impish grin and dances toward the kitchen. Isaac follows her and watches as she flings open drawers and cupboards, investigating and memorizing the layout of the new space.

“So, what should we make?” she asks, digging through the freezer. Isaac leans against the door frame, laughing.

“I don't really know how to cook,” he replies, and she whips around, hair fanning out behind her.

“You _what_?” Erica looks scandalized, and Isaac raises an eyebrow, still laughing.

“I don't know how to cook,” he repeats, crossing his arms against the way she's looking at him now. She marches towards him, leaving the freezer open and grabbing him by the wrist, hauling him further into the kitchen.

“Look, Isaac, that pretty face will get you many places in life, but you can't expect to sweep anyone off their feet unless you know how to cook a good meal,” she says, returning to digging through the freezer as he stands to the side, feeling lost and a little shy.

“I don't need to sweep anyone off their feet,” he grumbles, crossing his arms tighter over his chest and watching her pull things out and occasionally put them back.

“Maybe not now, but it's still a good skill to have,” she says matter-of-factly, closing the freezer and opening the fridge. She begins pulling things out with even more vigor, pausing as she sniffs a container of something that Isaac can't identify. “Who normally does the grocery shopping?”

“Peter,” he says, moving to shove his hands into his pockets again, suddenly very aware of the fact that he left his phone on his bed upstairs, and what if the man texts him...

“He must like to cook,” she sounds surprised, and Isaac looks at her, confused. She holds up several ingredients in answer, propping the door open with her hip. “Lots of good stuff in here. You should ask him for lessons.”

“Seriously? Cooking lessons?” Isaac begins taking things as Erica hands them to him and moving to the island, looking at each one with interest before setting them down.

“Why not? It would be good bonding time for you two,” she smirks over her shoulder as she pulls a frying pan down from the hanging rack over the island and dances over to the stove. Isaac snorts, but reminds himself to ask the man about it later.

He hovers over Erica, watching as she chops, slices, and fries, handing her things when she asks for them and filing away every tip that she offers.

“Where did you learn all of this?” He asks at one point, while she's turning a steak over with a pair of tongs. He didn't even know they had steak. Or tongs.

“I watched a lot of cooking shows when I was younger,” she says, looking bashful, “Before my epilepsy got really bad. When I couldn't watch TV as much anymore, I start taking cooking classes in school and over the summer, to have something to do. I'm not really good at it, but it's fun.”

Isaac brings plates and cutlery down from the cupboards she can't reach, setting the table as she finishes the final touches on the meal, and he takes a few moments to revel in the feeling of normalcy.

“Go tell Derek and Stiles that dinner's ready, will you?” She calls over her shoulder while she's arranging food on plates and he's getting cups from the cupboard. He drops one and only manages to catch it because of his wolf reflexes.

“Seriously? I can't-” he attempts, but she shoots him a look that makes him stop short.

“Isaac, trust me, just do it.”

He exits the kitchen with a heavy sigh, moving towards the stairs. He's on the bottom step when the door slides open and Scott and Boyd enter, mid-discussion. They stop as Scott and Isaac make eye contact, and Isaac quickly darts up the stairs, stopping outside of Derek's door and taking a deep breath. He's raising his hand to knock when the door swings open, Stiles standing in the frame.

“Yeah?” The shorter teen asks with a grunt, not quite looking Isaac in the eye. He peers over Stiles' head and sees Derek laying on his bed, facing away from the door. With a sigh, Isaac turns his gaze back down and crosses his arms.

“Erica made dinner,” he says, shuffling his feet against the floor. Stiles stands resolutely, one hand on the door frame and the other on the door.

“Not hungry,” he replies simply meeting Isaac's eyes defiantly, and Isaac can't help but grimace a little bit.

“Look, I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you guys,” he tries, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his jeans pocket, again noting the absence of his phone. Stiles replies with a snort, but doesn't say anything, so Isaac takes this as a cue to continue. “I know that everyone is concerned about me, and I appreciate that.”

Stiles gives him a hard look for a long moment, the kind that makes Isaac want to squirm uncomfortably, even though he knows it wouldn't take more than a punch to send the other kid flying. Finally, Stiles drops his hands and rubs his hands on the legs of his jeans.

“No, dude, I'm sorry I was so hard on you. It was kind of a dick move, what I did earlier, and I should have...tried to be more understanding,” Stiles says all of this with a begrudging tone, and Isaac can't help but feel a little sorry for him, wondering if this is what Erica meant by 'damage control'.

“I shouldn't have lied,” Isaac says this time, firmly. He tries not to look at Derek, but is desperate for some kind of reaction from his alpha. “I know that you don't exactly like me, but thanks for trying.”

“Dude, I kind of treat you like crap,” Stiles says, looking at Isaac incredulously, and Isaac puffs out a small laugh. “I'm pretty sure I'm the bigger dick, here.”

“As touching as this particular pissing contest is, you boys finish later?” Erica hollers from the bottom of the stairs, tone filled with mirth. “Dinner's getting cold.”

Isaac turns his gaze back to Stiles and tries a tentative smile, holding a hand out towards the other teen.

“Truce?” he tries weakly, and Stiles returns the smile, grabbing Isaac's hand and shaking it with a small shrug.

“Truce,” he agrees. Isaac nods and takes one last glance at Derek before heading down the stairs, moving into the dining area of the kitchen where he finds Erica, Scott, and Boyd already seated and beginning to dig in. He moves to sit next to Erica, but stops when she points her fork at the space between Boyd and Scott, and hesitantly moves to sit between the two. He pokes at his food, pushing it around more than eating it, until Scott puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” the shorter wolf says, and Isaac glances up from his food, seeing a small smile on Scott's face. “Don't worry about it.”

Isaac can't help the smile that spreads across his face at this, giving Scott a hearty nod before digging into his own food, thankful that another awkward apology wasn't due. Stiles and Derek enter the kitchen a few minutes later, Stiles sitting next to Erica, and Derek at the head of the table with Stiles to his right. They eat in silence for most of the meal, until Isaac can't take it any more and lays his fork across his plate with a clink.

“I'm sorry,” he says to the table at large, and everyone looks up suddenly, startled, except for Derek, who continues eating as if he hasn't heard a thing. Isaac waits a minute in the silence before trying again, “Derek-”

“Eat, Isaac,” the alpha says softly, still not looking up from his plate. Isaac looks down at his own plate, finding it almost empty, anyway, and quietly excuses himself from the table. He takes the stairs two at a time and drops into his bed with a heavy exhale, digging around in his blankets for his phone. When he finds it, he slides his thumb across the screen to unlock it, finding three new messages from Peter. The first is a text simply saying,

_Here we go._

The second is a muffled audio recording that sounds like it was taken from inside someone's pocket. It features Derek's voice, growling out rather colorful threats, each one interspersed with a very clear, “If you hurt him, I swear--,” and overlaying the sounds of Peter's laughter, despite being audibly punched. It ends abruptly, and Isaac can't help but laugh when he opens the third message.

It's a picture, displaying the older man with a smug expression despite a bruised, slightly bloody, and obviously beaten face. Underneath it, the man wrote,

_Well, that could have gone worse._

Isaac types out a quick,

_Glad you're so relaxed about all of this._

He lays back against his pillows and closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of Peter that has begun to fade from his bedding. He briefly considers putting on a record, but decides against it as he listens to the sounds of his pack below him, washing the dishes and cleaning up from dinner. He can hear Scott and Stiles arguing about what movie to watch, and Stiles shrieking shrilly as Erica shoots him with the sprayer on the sink. He laughs softly, but stops when the floor outside of his room creaks, and he looks up to see Derek standing there. Isaac sits up slowly, watching Derek watching him. Neither speak for a long moment, and Isaac fiddles with his phone, opening the picture of Peter bruised from Derek's beating. He holds it up, looking across the room at Derek.

“Feel better?” He asks, tone light, and Derek snorts a laugh, rolling his eyes.

“Marginally,” comes the reply, and Isaac smiles a little. He drops his phone to the bed and folds his hands between his knees, looking down at the floor.

“I'm sorry,” he says again, and he can almost feel Derek quirk and eyebrow at him.

“My uncle is manipulative, dangerous, a liar, and a killer,” Derek says, crossing his arms, and Isaac glances up, mouth open to argue. He stops when he sees the soft expression contradicting Derek's words on the alpha's face. “But he was right when he said that constantly apologizing doesn't suit you.”

Isaac feels a tight squeeze in his chest and takes a shaking breath, looking up at his alpha.

“I shouldn't have lied to you,” he says, voice tremulous and barely above a whisper. Derek shrugs noncommittally.

“I shouldn't have been so hard on you,” the alpha counters, and Isaac nods a bit in agreement, looking at his hands, still folded together and resting between his knees. “If you can promise me that you'll be careful...”

Isaac looks up when Derek trails off, trying not to look too hopeful, but knowing that he's probably not succeeding. Derek is looking at him expectantly, and Isaac nods eagerly.

“I promise,” he swears, sitting up a little straighter, and Derek nods stiffly. Isaac smiles breathlessly. “Thank you.”

Derek considers this, nodding again as he backs out of Isaac's room and disappears back down the stairs. Isaac waits until he hears the conversation downstairs pick up again before plucking his phone up from where he dropped it and typing out another message to Peter.

_I think I just got Derek's blessing._

He hits send with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got several great music recommendations sitting on a list on my desktop, waiting for the right moment to be used. However, I'm still taking more suggestion for music on [my blog](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/), so feel free to [drop me a link](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/submit) or [just say hi](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask)! ♥


	17. Escalation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I've been so busy lately that I haven't had much time to sit down and get stuff done.
> 
> So here's a short little slice-of-life chapter for you. There's a bit of important story things at the beginning and throughout, but with the exception of the beginning, this is a feel-good chapter (for me, at least). The next will be another feel-good chapter before we get back into the ~plot~.
> 
> Here's your playlist: 
> 
> 1\. Of Monsters And Men - Dirty Paws  
> 2\. Moon Taxi - Young Journey  
> 3\. Mother Mother - O My Heart  
> 4\. David Byrne & St. Vincent - Who  
> 5\. IAMX - Sorrow  
> 6\. Arctic Monkeys - Still Take You Home  
> 7\. Alabama Shakes - Rise To The Sun  
> 8\. Delta Rae - Fire  
> Funeral Suits - Mary's Revenge

The peaceful air within the pack only lasts a few days before everything goes to hell again. Isaac and Boyd are coming home from lacrosse practice on Monday with Erica in tow, when Isaac notices something seems off. They take the stairs up to the loft at a supernatural speed, Isaac in the lead, followed by Erica and Boyd. They stop short when they reach the door to the loft, which has been pulled open. Isaac looks back at the other two, and signals with a short nod that he'll take point, nearly tip-toeing through the open door.

“Isaac,” he nearly jumps out of his skin, focus whipping towards the couches where the rasping voice had come from.

“Derek?” he asks, moving forward quickly and confirming for himself. Derek is sprawled across one of the couches, thick red gashes slashed in his shirtless chest. There is a small amount of blood at the corner of his mouth, which Isaac watches as Derek tries and fails to pull himself into more of a sitting position. Erica and Boyd have come to stand behind Isaac, watching as he flutters his hands helplessly over his alpha's shredded torso. Isaac presses one hand to a bit of unmarred flesh, holding his breath as he attempts to draw some of the pain out of Derek. He watches the black seeping through his veins before he pulls back, gasping. It's not a pleasant sensation, he thinks, or one he'll ever get used to.

“What happened?” he tries once Derek looks a little more clear-headed. The alpha wipes at his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand.

“Alpha pack,” the explanation is short, but it makes sense. All three of the betas tense up at the mention, and Derek looks like he's trying not to wince. “You have to leave.”

“Derek, we're not leaving you,” Boyd says behind him, and Isaac feels Erica nod in agreement. Derek looks over Isaac's shoulders at the pair and shakes his head slightly.

“I'll be fine. You need to go, find somewhere to stay,” Derek grunts as he pulls himself up slightly, “Just for a few days.”

“Why?” Isaac asks, pressing a hand to Derek's shoulder, drawing a bit more of the pain out. “What do they want?”

“They want me to kill you,” Derek grits out, pushing Isaac's hand away. The teen cradles his hand, still buzzing with the sharp, tingling pull in his veins. “So I can join their pack.”

Isaac sits back on his heels with a heavy sigh, turning to look at Erica and Boyd. The two meet his gaze with a severity that Isaac can't ignore. With a tight frown, he looks back at Derek.

“We're not leaving you,” he manages to keep his voice from trembling, but Derek shoots him a sharp look which makes Isaac feel like hiding.

“If you don't leave, they will make me kill you. Just for a few days, Isaac,” Derek presses, and Issac nods curtly, relenting. He stands and turns to face Erica and Boyd, who look as lost and scared as he feels. 

“Go pack what you need,” he tells them, following their reluctant and trudging footsteps up the stairs. Derek had set them up in the extra room after their return, and after he relaxed about Isaac's...whatever, with Peter, he let his uncle take the three teens shopping for new clothes. 

Isaac shoulders open the door to his own room, staring blankly at the mess of clothes on the floor and the tangled blankets on his bed, everything how he left it that morning. With a heavy sigh, he drops to his knees and begins picking up articles of clothing, half-folding them before stuffing them into his backpack. When he's certain he has enough, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and selects the most recent contact, dialing the number. Peter picks up as he's exiting into the hall, where Erica and Boyd are waiting.

“Yes, pup?” Isaac can't help but smile slightly at the amused, lightly affectionate tone.

“I need a favor,” he says, leading his packmates toward the stairs. “Actually, we need a favor.”

After briefly explaining the situation to Peter, the three exit the loft reluctantly, leaving Derek where he is sleeping and slowly healing on the couch. They wait outside for only a few minutes before Peter's silver Lexus pulls up, which Isaac gets into quickly. Erica and Boyd hesitate for a second before Boyd opens the door for her, then moves around to the other side and gets in as well. Peter pulls away from the curb as soon as the doors are shut, and Isaac fiddles with the radio from the passenger seat.

“You want to tell me what's going on?” the older man asks, shooting Isaac a curious look. Isaac shifts his backpack where it's sitting on his lap and stares forward out the windshield.

“The Alpha pack came for Derek. They want him to kill us,” Erica explains from the seat behind Isaac, and Peter looks at her in the rear-view mirror.

“They want him in their pack,” Peter considers, and the other three say nothing for the rest of the drive.

When Peter finally pulls into his lot and parks, they file out of the vehicle silently, Isaac taking the lead in following Peter into the building. They take the elevator up to his floor, somewhere near the middle of the building, and when the elevator shudders to a stop and the doors open, Isaac peeks out into the space curiously.

The entire building is an open space, with balconies circling the insides of the walls which serve as the halls of each floor. Isaac leans over the railing in the center and sees the lobby where they entered the building, letting Peter grab him by the collar and gently pull him back away from the edge.

“This building is awesome,” Boyd remarks quietly as Peter leads them across the polished concrete floors to a door nearby. Isaac looks at the gold polished numbers, 307, and watches as Peter unlocks the door and pushes it open.

“It was built as a cold storage building back in the 20's and was shut down just after 1986,” Peter explains as the three teens follow him into a narrow hall lined with doors and spilling into an open space at the end. “They modified it to make it lofts about 8 years ago.”

Peter leads them into the open-plan living room and kitchen area, and turns to face them, looking fairly unamused with the idea of having three teenagers in his house for an indeterminable amount of time. He points toward the hall.

“First door on the right is the bathroom, second door is my room. Don't go in my room,” Erica rolls her eyes at this command, but Isaac files this bit of information away for later use. “The door on the left is the spare room. You can put your bags in there.”

Erica and Boyd turn to head to the spare room, and Isaac begins to follow, stopping when he feels Peter's hand on his wrist.

“Isaac,” the sudden softness to his tone startles Isaac slightly, but he turns to meet Peter's gaze, unable to read the older man's expression. They stare at each other for a moment before Isaac take's a step closer, and Peter's fingers release his wrist, only to come up to brush gently at his cheek.

“Thank you,” Isaac says, even as his eyes are closing at Peter's touch, a small smile spreading over his face.

“I don't have much food, so I'll have to go to the store,” Peter says conversationally, tone and words not belying the soft sweep of his fingertips over Isaac's temple, cheekbone, and jaw.

“I'll go with you,” Erica announces from the hallway where she's leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a smug grin on her face. Peter drops his hand suddenly and Isaac's eyes flutter open as he turns to face her.

“Are you sure, Erica?” Isaac asks, adjusting his grip on his backpack, which is still slung over his shoulder. Her gaze shifts from Isaac to Peter, grin staying firm on her face.

“Totally,” she says, pushing off from the wall and coming to stand beside them, one hand on her hip as she looks at Isaac. “You have homework you need to do, right? Why don't you relax and get that done.”

Isaac looks between Erica's smug grin and Peter's slight, barely noticeable frown. He nods weakly, leaning in to give Peter a quick, one-armed hug before disappearing into the guest room with Boyd. Erica rocks back on her heels, then up onto her toes, grinning up at Peter.

“Shall we?” She laughs at the look he gives her, but follows him to the door, pausing to croon back to the boys, “Be back soon!”

She prances after Peter, stopping when she catches up to him at the elevator. She's still looking at him with the same smug grin when he turns an arched eyebrow in her direction.

“Are you satisfied with yourself?” He asks as the doors open and he steps inside. She follows him, cocking her head a bit to the side as the doors shut and the elevator shakes before beginning it's slow descent.

“Marginally. Sorry for being a cock-block, but I wanted to interrogate you in private,” she gives him a side-eyed glance, and sees the slight amused quirk of his mouth as he huffs a laugh through his nose. Her grin drops slightly when he reaches out and hits the emergency stop, and the elevator shudders to a sudden stop, paused between the first and second floor. He turns on her quickly, pinning her to the wall with a hand on either side of her head. She snarls at him, fangs lengthening, and touches the tips of her claws to his throat.

“Do you want to find out which one of us is faster?” He taunts, leaning close, and she snorts but doesn't reply.

“Are you fucking with Isaac?” She asks instead, and Peter flinches backward slightly to look her in the eye. She quirks an eyebrow and presses the tips of her claws a bit harder at his throat.

“Fucking him, yes. Fucking _with_ him? No,” Peter smirks slightly. Erica looks unimpressed but retracts her claws from his throat.

“If I find out you're fucking with him, I'll be next in line to rip your throat out,” she threatens, and Peter laughs, moving away. He hits the emergency stop button and the elevator shudders into life again.

“I'll keep that in mind, Princess,” Peter says, and Erica has the distinct feeling that he's saying so only to placate her. The elevator dings and the doors open, and Erica follows behind Peter with tight footsteps. She slips into the car as soon as the doors unlock and begins fiddling with the radio as soon as the engine turns over. Peter shoots her an irritated glance but says nothing, letting her investigate his presets, the 6-CD changer, and the iPod sitting in the cup holder.

Peter's favorite small, market-type grocery is barely a block away, and Erica is still going through his iPod when he parks.

“There's stuff on here I've never even heard of,” Erica remarks casually, making a noise of protest when Peter plucks the device from her hands and tosses it into the glove compartment.

“I'm not surprised,” is all he says as he exits the car and she rushes to follow.

“So you're a music fan?” Erica asks, attempting conversation as they cross the parking lot and make their way into the store. Peter makes a noncommittal noise in the back of this throat as he chooses a cart and walks to the produce section. She follows after him, hands stuffed into the pockets of her leather jacket. She watches as he carefully selects pieces of fruit and various vegetables, “And you like to cook.”

“I wanted to be a chef when I was younger,” he remarks casually, and Erica is just thrilled that she finally got a response.

“What happened?” She follows him to the deli, waits impatiently as he makes several large orders for meats and cheeses, some of which she's never heard of before.

“A psychopath seduced my nephew and burned my family alive,” he says as they're walking away from the deli counter. Erica glances over her shoulder at the clerk, but he didn't seem to hear. She snorts as she moves to catch up with Peter again.

“No shit,” she says, grabbing several packages of cookies and chips and dumping them into the cart as they pass a display. Peter gives her a look but doesn't protest. “I mean, why don't you go for it now?”

“As if there isn't enough to worry about,” he replies cynically, picking up several more items before speaking again, “I don't think I could make a solid career anymore.” They're passing a display of cereal when Erica picks up several boxes of Captain Crunch and tosses them into the cart. Peter gives her the same look from before and she grins, shoving her hands back into her pockets.

“It's Isaac's favorite,” she says. He lets the boxes stay.

Erica is still cringing about the bill when they're back at Peter's building, unloading bags of groceries from the back of the Lexus. They manage to just get everything into the loft between the two of them, bless those werewolf powers, Erica thinks as she watches Isaac and Boyd rifle through the bags while Peter files things away in cupboards and drawers. When they've finished putting everything away, Peter shoos the three teens out of the kitchen and starts on dinner. Boyd and Isaac get comfortable on the couch, working on homework, and Erica sneaks back into the kitchen a few times to watch Peter cook. 

They sit at the small table near one of the large loft windows and eat dinner in silence. The three younger betas disappear into the guest room after dinner, leaving the clean-up to Peter, who loads the dishwasher and sets it to run before switching off the lights and moving into his own room for the night. He's sitting in bed in a pair of lounge pants with a large book propped on his knees thirty minutes later when the door swings open and Isaac creeps in. He stands by the door, watching Peter highlight a section in the book and mark an annotation in the margin with a pen, and doesn't realize he's staring until Peter speaks.

“Did you need something, pup?” He asks without looking up, highlighting another section and making another annotation to the side. Isaac shakes his head mutely, reaching behind him for the doorknob. His fingers brush it and Peter shuts the book, setting it on the table beside his bed with the pen and highlighter. “Come here, then.”

Isaac steps away from the door, and just barely manages not to throw himself into the bed beside the older man. He scoots in close, humming when Peter turns the bedside lamp off and rolls onto his side, wrapping a warm, firm arm around Isaac's waist. Isaac presses their foreheads together and closes his eyes, smiling when Peter's hand skates up and down his back under his t-shirt.

“I missed you,” Isaac says quietly, and Peter's hand pauses at his lower back, pressing knuckles into the muscles there before moving back up, gently massaging along Isaac's spine.

“Go to sleep, pup,” Peter says, and Isaac lets himself curl into Peter's warmth and scent and fall into a deep sleep.


	18. Laying Claim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap! A double update? That's right!
> 
> This is a pure porn chapter, in thanks for over 5000 views! You guys are AMAZING! Seriously. Thanks so much to all of you for continuing to read and comment with every update. It's hugely flattering and such a privilege for me to be writing this for you guys.
> 
> Here's a playlist for you:
> 
> 1\. Foster The People - Call It What You Want  
> 2\. IAMX - Volatile Times  
> 3\. Saint Motel - You Do It Well  
> 4\. Florence + The Machine - I'm Not Calling You A Liar  
> 5\. Mother Mother - Ghosting  
> 6\. Silversun Pickups - Here We Are (Chancer)  
> 7\. One Republic - Something I Need

When Isaac wakes up the next morning, he has momentarily forgotten where he is. The unfamiliar bedroom is dimly lit by the light filtering in from under the door, and the only thing that draws him back is the long line of Peter's warmth pressed against his back and the arm around his waist. His memory of the day before comes back to him in blurred flashes, followed by the memory of the dream he was having before he woke up.

He feels his face warm up at the thought of that dream, a rather explicit one about himself and Peter, and shifts slightly against the warmth behind him. His face heats up more when his new position is doing nothing to stop him from pressing his ass against the half-hardness of Peter's cock. The other wolf grunts slightly at the new contact and leans forward, rumbling slightly in Isaac's ear. There's a soft snuffling before his breathing evens out again and Isaac lets out a slow, relieved sigh of breath.

He lays there for a long time, trying to think of anything to quell the half-hardness forming in his own pants, but the feeling of Peter pressed so firmly against his back, breath ghosting gently over his ear, isn't helping. Isaac finally lets out a defeated sigh before shifting his hips slightly, pressing his ass more firmly against Peter. Isaac has to suppress a shudder when Peter wakes with a soft groan, breath passing over the shell of Isaac's ear. The man's grip shifts from his waist to his hip, tightening slightly over the bone.

“Good morning,” Peter coos in Isaac's ear, voice sleep-rough, warm, and honeyed. Isaac closes his eyes at this, pressing back into Peter again, gasping when Peter grips his hip and rolls his own hips up to meet Isaac's. The older wolf growls softly at the contact and Isaac can't help the soft moan that escapes him when Peter nips gently at his shoulder through his sleep shirt.

“Good morning, yourself,” Isaac says breathlessly after a moment, pressing himself back against Peter again and moaning as Peter grinds against him. Peter nips at his shoulder again, wolf teeth pricking at his skin through his shirt, and Isaac arches into it, biting his fist to stifle the noise he makes. Peter hums at this, obviously pleased at the reaction, and smooths his hand up and down Isaac's side, brushing over his ribs and curling around his chest, fingertips pressing gently against his nipples before sliding back down and trailing over his abs and hips. Isaac whimpers slightly, tilting his head back, and Peter latches onto the exposed skin of his neck, sucking a tender, red mark into the flesh.

“Peter,” Isaac gasps, moving a hand to grip at the one that is trailing up and down his side. Peter moves their hands, together, to brush over Isaac's hip and thigh, and Isaac presses into the touch, sighing a moan. Peter rumbles softly behind him again and Isaac can feel the vibrations through his back. The older wolf nips at his jaw and dips his fingers into the top hem of Isaac's sleep pants, growling softly at the quiet gasp Isaac lets out when Peter combs his fingers through the trail of coarse, curled hair below his navel. His fingers dip lower, and Isaac can't help the breathless keening sound that he releases when Peter finally wraps his fingers around his erection. 

“Do you have any idea how long I've waited for this?” Peter whispers against his ear, making Isaac shudder. The man strokes Isaac gently, fingers grazing lazily over the head of his cock, down to his balls, and back up. Isaac shivers and presses a hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the soft, desperate noises slipping past his lips. He arches into the touch and gasps, panting against his own hand. Peter croons in his ear, wrapping his fingers around the teen's length and stroking slowly, thumb brushing over the head with each up stroke. “So many things I want to do to you, Isaac.”

“Like what?” Isaac manages to gasp the words out from behind his hand, quickly covering his mouth again to stifle another moan when Peter's grip on him tightens slightly. He can't help but try to swivel his hips, trying to push his erection further into the older wolf's grasp. Peter growls warningly in his ear and Isaac reluctantly ceases the motion of his hips, breathing heavily with the effort of staying still while Peter's fingers are still playing at the skin of his cock. Isaac whimpers pitifully when Peter bites the skin of his neck roughly while simultaneously trailing a claw up the underside of his dick.

“The first day, in the house,” Peter says after he releases Isaac's throat. He licks up a small bead of blood from a puncture that's already healed. “I wanted so badly to throw you down and fuck you right there.”

Isaac groans louder against his hand still clenched against his mouth, bucking up into Peter's grip again. The older man growls and Isaac stops with a short, stuttering motion, groaning at the way Peter's dick is pressed against his ass.

“All the ways I could claim you,” Peter hums into his hair. He removes his hand from Isaac's pants long enough to push the teen over onto his back and to climb on top of him. Peter straddles the younger wolf's thighs and pushes his shirt up, leaning down to kiss and bite at Isaac's chest. Isaac pulls his shirt off the remainder of the way and lays back, one hand weaving into Peter's hair as the man kisses and nips his way down Isaac's torso, sucking angry red welts into the spaces above his collarbones. The teen tilts his head back with a shuddering sigh, eyes closing as Peter continues kissing and sucking at apparently random spots on his body.

“I could take you like this, on your back,” Peter whispers against his skin, clawed fingertips trailing reverently over the lines of Isaac's ribs, barely peeking out through the muscle that has started to build up on his sides. The teen shudders and opens his eyes, watching as Peter stops to bite sharply at a spot just above his navel. The older man makes eye contact with him as he kisses tenderly over the reddened skin.

“What's stopping you?” Isaac asks breathlessly, watching as Peter sits up and carefully reaches back into the front of Isaac's pants, extracting the younger man's straining erection. The older man hums instead of answering and wraps his fingers around Isaac's length, spreading pre-cum across the head with his thumb. Isaac groans, eyes fluttering shut again as the warm contact sends shivers down his spine. His eyes snap open again a moment later when Peter's hand disappears from his cock, and Isaac sees this is because Peter has brought his palm up to his mouth and is licking it in long, wet lines. He glances down at Isaac with a small smirk as he does this, before dropping his hand back to the teen's length and giving it a teasing stroke.

“I prefer my privacy,” Peter remarks casually, and Isaac suddenly remembers Erica and Boyd are supposed to be sleeping across the hall. He bites off a particularly loud moan, feeling his face flushing with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. If anything, his dick gets impossibly harder at the idea that they can hear. Peter seems to notice this and chuckles, “Although apparently it's not such a priority for you.”

Isaac laughs breathlessly, but the sound quickly turns into a moan when Peter strokes him with a certain flick of his wrist. He takes a deep, shaking breath, trying to gain some composure, but falls into another shuddering moan as Peter leans down and takes one of his nipples between his teeth, pressing it with his tongue.

“W-Want them to hear,” Isaac gasps, trying to buck into Peter's grip again. He knows he's close, just needs a little more. Peter smirks against his skin and licks across to lav the flat of his tongue against Isaac's other nipple, chuckling darkly at the keening noise Isaac makes.

“Pup has a secret voyeurism kink?” Peter's tone is filled with amusement, and Isaac clenches his teeth, shaking his head. Peter kisses a gentle line down Isaac's sternum before sitting up again, pausing the motion of his hand on Isaac's cock. “What, then?”

Isaac's hands are clenched in the sheets beside him, claws tearing shreds in the fabric. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and lets it out slowly, managing to pry his eyes open to look up at Peter.

“I want to be your b-,” Isaac stops, swallows, and amends, “I want to be yours. I want everyone to know it.” Peter's eyes glow the cold, steel blue that Isaac has grown used to, and Isaac manages to bite back a moan and Peter strokes him forcefully, meaningfully.

“They will, pup,” Peter says, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of Isaac's jaw. “I promise they will.”

His strokes become firm and pointed, and Isaac is gasping and writhing under him a few minutes later when Peter drags his claws down Isaac's chest as the teen comes. Peter strokes him through to the end of his orgasm, and Isaac looks up at him, heartbeat racing, as Peter brings his cum-splattered hand up to his mouth and begins to clean it obscenely. He winks at Isaac, and the teen lets out a small, disbelieving huff of a laugh.

Peter slides down Isaac's legs slightly and leans forward to lick the spunk from his stomach, pressing his tongue across the healing scratch marks as well. Isaac groans, one hand twitching helplessly in Peter's hair as the man cleans him. When he's finished, he tucks Isaac back into his pants and slides back to his place beside the teen. Isaac closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out, hand seeking out Peter's and lacing their fingers together without really thinking about it. The older man doesn't seem to mind, and gives Isaac's hand a gentle squeeze in apparent approval.

After several long minutes recovering, Isaac remembers that he wasn't the only one who woke up with morning wood. He shifts slightly onto his side to look at Peter, mouth opening to form an inquiry.

“Don't worry about it,” Peter interrupts him, and Isaac frowns slightly.

“I want to,” Isaac insists, and Peter quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't argue. He settles in on his back and kicks the blankets to the end of the bed, where they sit restlessly before falling in a heap to the floor. He looks at Isaac with a challenging smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Isaac releases Peter's hand and carefully, nervously, climbs over to the man, straddling his thighs like Peter did to him. He watches as Peter folds his hands behind his head and looks at him smugly, but turns his gaze back to the obvious tent in the front of the man's pants with determination. He works his fingers under the hem of the older man's pants and tugs gently, shifting the fabric down a few inches. He ignores the expectant look that Peter gives him and brushes one hand up over the man's abs, letting his claws prick and pull at the skin there. He feels Peter's muscles jump under the touch and smirks, dipping his other hand into the man's pants.

Peter lets out a small breath, but makes no other noises or motions when Isaac takes him firmly in his hand, pulling the man's flushed and swollen cock free. Isaac makes a small noise at the back of his throat, eyes fluttering up to watch Peter's face as he strokes firmly, thumb pressing against the spot just under the head, fingers tracing the veins. Peter closes his eyes and tilts his head back slightly, and Isaac presses on, using both hands now to explore the other man's dick. 

He wraps one hand around it again to stroke teasingly while using his other hand to gently roll Peter's balls. Isaac glances up and feels a small surge of pride to find that Peter's mouth has fallen open slightly and his fingers and gripping the pillow beneath his head tightly. Isaac carefully slides a bit further down Peter's legs, and the older man looks up at him questioningly when Isaac takes hold of him again. The teen smiles up at him shyly before leaning in close and darting his tongue out to lick at the head of the man's cock.

Peter inhales sharply, watching Isaac with a much more intense gaze as the teen sits up, licking at his lips before ducking back down again. Peter lets out a small groan when Isaac rolls his tongue along the underside of the head while looking up at the other wolf through his eyelashes.

“Have you done this before?” Peter asks, voice slightly strained, and Isaac takes a bit of pride in that as he gives the tip a tentative lick, tasting the salty pre-cum gathered there. He hums lightly, deciding he likes the taste, and gives a bolder lick across the tip. One of Peter's hands moves from under his head to weave his fingers through Isaac's hair, gripping it lightly. The teen smiles at this as he looks up at Peter and wets his lips.

“No,” he answers simply, then takes the head into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and pressing his tongue against the underside. Peter tugs sharply at his hair, causing Isaac to moan. The resulting vibrations make Peter tilt his own head back in a groan, eyes shutting as Isaac pulls off of him with an obscene 'pop'. The teen dives back down a moment later, taking more of Peter's length into his mouth, moaning around it as he presses clumsily with his tongue. He hollows his cheeks again as he sucks, and Peter moans, pressing his fingertips into Isaac's scalp, trying not to thrust into his mouth. He looks down at the teen, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and pink lips wrapped around his cock, and lets out another groan.

“Yes, just like that,” he encourages when Isaac takes a little more of him in, and Peter can feel him swallowing around his dick. “You look so good with your mouth on my cock.” 

Peter smirks as Isaac's eyes flutter shut and the teen moans, and Peter gives his hair a gentle tug. Isaac pulls back slightly before swallowing more of him, stopping just before he begins to choke.

“Good boy, Isaac,” Peter croons, and Isaac moans loudly. “You're such a good boy. Do you like sucking me off?”

Isaac moans again, nodding as little as he can with Peter's dick still mostly in his mouth. He has started working the length he can't fit into his mouth with his other hand, stroking quickly and firmly, pausing occasionally to roll the man's balls and give them gentle squeezes. When he looks up at Peter again, the man's face and neck are flushed all the way down to the top of his chest, but he's smirking right back down at Isaac. The teen pulls off of his dick, swallowing down a mouth full of drool and pre-cum, licking his lips clean before letting Peter guide him up for a bruising kiss.

Peter's tongue and teeth dominate the kiss, and Isaac lets him, moaning against his mouth. When Peter releases him, Isaac shimmies back down to take Peter's cock into his mouth again, swallowing down as much as possible before hollowing his cheeks and bobbing quickly. Peter tips his head back with a groan, his grip tightening in Isaac's hair again as he thrusts upwards into the wet heat of Isaac's mouth. Isaac does his best not to choke, swallowing frequently and pulling up often enough to get a good breath of air before returning to nearly deep throating the man.

“Fuck, Isaac,” Peter gasps, trying to swivel his hips to gain more of that sweet heat. Isaac has pulled off of him again and is jerking him firmly.

“What are you waiting for?” Isaac teases, voice rough and low. He chuckles softly, leaning forward to lick at the head of Peter's dick again. “I want you to come in my mouth.”

Isaac sinks back down onto Peter's cock again, swallowing him all of the way as Peter's orgasm hits him. His back arches off of the bed with a groan, one clawed hand fisted in Isaac's hair, the other still clinging to the now-shredded pillow. Isaac swallows as much as he can, not caring much when he feels a slight trickle on his chin. When he pulls away, he concentrates first on licking Peter clean the way Peter had done for him before moving up the bed toward the other man.

Peter grins when he opens his eyes and sees a bit of his seed on Isaac's chin, and he wipes it off carefully with the edge of his thumb. Isaac takes the digit into his mouth before Peter can object and sucks it clean, working his tongue against the calloused skin. 

When Isaac flops back down beside Peter, he immediately curls in close to the older man, who slings a lazy arm across his waist and begins to trace patterns on his back. They lay like this for several long minutes before Erica clears her throat loudly on the other side of the bedroom door.

“If you two are finished, Boyd and I would really like to go to school, and we need the spare key,” she sounds mildly irritated, and Isaac hides his face in Peter's shoulder, groaning in embarrassment as the older man laughs.

“On the coffee table next to my laptop,” Peter replies simply.

“Thanks,” Erica calls out after a bit of shuffling, and they both listen as the loft door shuts behind the two. When Isaac is sure they're gone, he lifts his head, cheeks still flushed pink in his humiliation.

“They heard all of that,” he complains, nudging Peter in the side. The older man smirks, taking Isaac's hand in his own and kissing the pads of his fingers.

“You wanted them to,” the older man reminds him, and Isaac nods, feeling his face heat up more. They sit in silence for a few minutes, Peter idly examining Isaac's long, thin fingers, and Isaac watching the man's expression curiously.

“So...” Isaac trails off, honestly not sure what he wants to say. Peter looks up at him, eyebrow quirked, and Isaac flushes again with embarrassment.

“Turning shy on me now, pup?” Peter teases, tugging gently at Isaac's fingers, and the teen shakes his head.

“You were saying,” Isaac begins, swallows nervously, then continues, “All of the things you wanted to do to me?”

Peter's smile turns wicked.


	19. Omen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this has taken so long to get done, I've had a hell of a time recently and needed to take a break to deal with some responsibilities outside of the internet. But now that things are mostly dealt with, I can get back to working on this baby!
> 
> I'm hoping to draw it to a close in the next 6 or so chapters; I'm shooting for a total length of 25 chapters, give or take for some epilogue stuff.
> 
> Here's your playlist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit  
> 2\. The Hoosiers - Worst Case Scenario  
> 3\. Franz Ferdinand - Evil Eye  
> 4\. Broken Bells - Perfect World  
> 5\. Kongos - I'm Only Joking

It's just after three in the afternoon when Erica and Boyd get back from school. They're greeted by the smell of recent cooking when they enter the loft, and Erica stops at the guest room to toe off her high heels before padding into the main area, Boyd following closely behind her. They find Isaac and Peter sitting at the table digging into twin stacks of double chocolate pancakes, chatting quietly while the record player spins on the counter top. Erica places a hand on her hip, cataloging the dark blue knitted scarf draped around Peter's neck and the black v-neck shirt that hangs a bit loosely on Isaac.

“Is this a private party?” She taunts, smirking when Isaac looks up, mouth full of pancakes and looking slightly startled at her existence.

“There's more in the fridge,” Peter replies lightly, raising his coffee cup to his lips and taking a long sip. Erica folds her arms over her chest as Boyd moves past her with a gentle nudge and heads for the extra pancakes.

“We went to see Derek earlier,” Isaac tells her, preferring to keep pack business out in the open, and he knows it's as much Boyd and Erica's business as it is his.

“How is he?” Boyd asks after swallowing down an inhuman bite of pancake.

“Better,” Isaac says, pausing to sip at his coffee. “Stiles is taking care of him.”

Boyd snorts and rolls his eyes, and Erica coos. Peter shares in Boyd's eye-roll.

“We'll have to go see him tomorrow,” Erica tells Boyd from across the counter, and he nods his agreement, taking another large bite of pancake. She turns her attention back to Isaac. “What excuse did you give him for skipping school?”

Isaac flushes a vibrant shade of red and clears his throat several times before speaking.

“I, uh, told him I was worried about him,” Isaac says lamely, setting his coffee cup down just to have something to look at instead of his packmate.

“Oh, so he thinks that Boyd and I aren't concerned? Real nice, sunshine,” she snips, and Isaac twitches slightly, glaring at her. “I'm sure he'd love to hear the real reason you skipped school.”

Isaac snarls and stabs his fork into the table top, glare sharpening. Erica doesn't flinch, but growls back, dropping her hands to her sides as her claws extend. Isaac starts to stand, but Peter stops him by looping the extra length of scarf around the teen's neck, tugging him backwards gently as Isaac starts to rise from his seat.

“Calm down, both of you,” Peter chides and looks at Boyd, who is still holding the plate of pancakes in one hand and a half-eaten pancake in the other. He looks more bored than concerned at the sight of his packmates fighting. Peter sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose for dramatics. “I never wanted children.”

This elicits a muffled chuckle from Boyd as Erica puffs up and flips her hair over her shoulder. The situation is mostly diffused, so Isaac returns to his food and Erica joins Boyd in hovering over the plate from the fridge, taking a pancake in each perfectly manicured hand and tearing at them ravenously. Peter finishes his food first, perfectly timed with the end of the record, so he moves the needle from the record and rinses his plate in the sink before putting it in the dishwasher. He disappears to his room while Isaac cleans up the rest of the dishes, and Erica and Boyd lean against the counter, watching in silence. Isaac puts the last dish into the dishwasher and wipes his hands on the towel laying on the counter, frowning at the pair.

“Okay, seriously, what,” he deadpans, looking between them, and Erica suddenly becomes extremely interested in her fingernails, while Boyd shrugs defensively.

“Nothing,” the other boy says, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing sideways at Erica. She is still examining the perfect red polish on her nails, expression betraying her true interest in the conversation. Boyd looks back at Isaac and shrugs again, “We were just wondering if this is going to be a regular thing.”

Isaac quirks an eyebrow, clearly confused, and Boyd takes a hand out of his pocket to gesture vaguely between Isaac and the direction of Peter's bedroom. Isaac turns pink, crossing his arms over his chest, remembers belatedly that he's wearing one of Peter's shirts, and his blush darkens.

“I don't know. I guess,” he says noncommittally, refusing to look either of his packmates in the eye. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out quickly, thankful for the distraction. He makes a face at the picture of Stiles lit up on his screen, and slides his thumb across before holding the device to his ear. “Stiles? What's up?”

“It was a diversion,” Stiles sounds breathless and slightly panicked on the other line. Erica drops her disinterested facade immediately, looking at Isaac's phone with concern. Stiles takes a couple of deep, shaking breaths before continuing, “The alpha pack, they weren't after Derek at all. It's Scott.”

Isaac puts the phone on speaker and holds it between himself, Boyd, and Erica. Boyd looks between Isaac and Erica, sees that they're equally confused.

“What's Scott?” He asks, and there is a shuffling noise on the other line, so he says, “Stiles!”

“They weren't after me,” says Derek's voice, and he sounds like he's still in some pain from the previous day's attack, or from a new one, but it's hard to tell. They can still hear Stiles freaking out in the background. “They're after Scott. He's something we call a True Alpha. It's rare, very rare. Deucalion wanted Scott in his pack, not me.”

“Wanted,” Peter repeats, appearing next to Isaac, “Meaning what?”

“He's gone,” Derek sounds pained again, and this time it's obvious it's not physical. “He went with them.”

The four wolves share a look, confusion and concern evident, and all they can hear from the other line is Derek's slightly labored breathing and Stile's distressed ranting in the background.

“So what do we do?” Boyd asks after a quiet moment, and Derek is quiet for a moment in which Isaac is almost sure the alpha is shaking his head.

“I don't know,” Derek sounds resigned, but Peter snatches the phone away from Isaac, holding it closer to he can talk to his nephew.

“Derek, listen to me. Stay put, we're on our way, we'll figure something out when we get there,” he sounds confident and sure, and the hair on the back of Isaac's neck raises at just how authoritative Peter sounds. Like an alpha.

He snaps to when Peter is pressing his phone back into his hand. The call has ended and Erica and Boyd have left the room; Isaac can hear them through the wall, changing into fight-appropriate clothes. They're preparing for battle.

“Isaac,” Peter's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and when Isaac looks up at him, he realizes that he's holding Peter's hand in a death grip. The older man's free hand comes up to stroke his cheek gently, dipping down to trace the line of his jaw. “It's going to be okay.”

Isaac opens his mouth to reply, to tell Peter he's not concerned, he knows they'll work it out, but his breath catches in his throat and he can't form the words. Peter sighs and wraps his hand around the back of the teen's neck, pulling him close and pressing their cheeks together. Isaac can feel Peter's breath tickling at the shell of his ear as the man rubs their cheeks together, his stubble scraping in a way that sends jolts of pleasure down Isaac's spine. He realizes that Peter is whispering in his ear, gentle, soothing things that Isaac thinks aren't really helping, but he can feel himself relaxing.

“We're ready,” Erica announces from the hallway, and Peter pulls away, hand still on the back of Isaac's neck. He looks at Isaac expectantly until the teen nods, a brief and unsure signal that he's okay. Peter smiles slightly, a soft curve of his mouth that Isaac hasn't seen on him before, but he only gets a glimpse of it before Peter pushes his head down gently with the hand at the back of his neck and kisses Isaac's forehead. When he breaks away and heads for the door, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, he looks like normal Peter, and Isaac lets the whirlwind of confusion carry him out the door with the pack.

The drive to Derek's loft is short but seems even shorter while Isaac's consumed with the reality that Scott, the only person he's really trusted for so long, has joined the alpha pack. The worst part is that he can't bring himself to be mad, instead he just feels confused, betrayed, disappointed. At some point during the drive, Peter reaches over and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. It doesn't help, but Isaac appreciates it.

When they get into Derek's loft, Isaac is startled to see Derek, Stiles, Danny, Lydia, and Allison sitting around the table. Derek and Stiles are sitting so close their arms are touching, constantly brushing against each other as they shift papers and point things out to each other. Lydia is quietly talking to Danny, pointing at various diagrams, texts, and illustrations, filling him in on the finer details of the situation. Isaac sees Erica lock eyes with Allison, and the blonde girl begins growling, fangs extending.

“Erica,” Derek barks, attention suddenly on them, and she winces away from the red glint in his eyes. “Now is not the time.”

“When is the time, Derek?” Boyd asks, folding his arms across his chest, but the alpha fixes him with a meaningful look, and Boyd looks away without a word. Isaac's hand and side are cold, and he realizes that Peter has drifted away from him and across the room to where Derek and Stiles are sitting, and begins pouring over the maps and what look to Isaac to be blueprints. Isaac feels eyes on him and looks up to see Derek looking at him, glancing at his scarf around Peter's neck, Isaac wearing Peter's shirt, and Isaac can see the muscles in his alpha's jaw tensing and braces himself for the confrontation.

It never comes. Derek suddenly turns his attention back to Stiles who is arguing with Peter about something, and Isaac forces himself to move across the room to the other side of the table, where Allison is sitting. She gives him a wobbly half-smile when he approaches and pats him on the arm gently.

“You doing okay?” She asks, and he raises an eyebrow at her, leaning in to nudge her gently.

“I should be asking you that,” he replies, tone light, and she swallows hard, looking anywhere but at him.

“I'm fine,” she says, and he doesn't believe it, but he can tell that she really does. He decides to leave it be, but squeezes her shoulder gently, comfortingly, before Lydia hooks his arm in hers and drags him away from the group. Isaac peers over his shoulder at everyone as she drags him away, catching Danny's gaze and seeing the teen offer a small, sympathetic wave.

“Isaac,” she begins, voice honey-sweet, and Isaac can already tell this isn't going to end well as he turns his gaze away from Danny and back to the girl in front of him. “I think we need to talk.”

“Do we?” He asks, attempting to feign innocence. She stares at him for a moment, looks pointedly across the room at the blue knitted scarf wrapped around Peter's neck, then turns her gaze back to Isaac.

“We really do,” she says.

“He was cold,” he shrugs weakly, but he's too much of a coward to make eye contact with the girl that Peter left for dead on the lacrosse field last fall.

“It's May,” Lydia snaps, crossing her arms and tapping her heeled shoe on the floor impatiently.

“Look, Lydia,” he starts, but stops when she holds a hand up, one manicured nail poking into his chest sharply.

“Don't even,” she yells, voice sharp, and Isaac can hear a hush settle over the rest of the room, everyone's focus shifting to Lydia. “I don't know what's the matter with you, but you need to see a therapist or- or something, instead of doing this.”

Isaac opens his mouth to argue back, but she presses her nail into his chest again, and he stops.

“Because you obviously have some kind of dysfunction, screwing around with the guy that almost killed ninety percent of your friends before being killed and then manipulated me into raising him from the dead. Is it the danger? Are you into the undead? Or does the age difference do it for you? Maybe he fulfills some sort of sick, twisted daddy kink-”

“Shut up,” Isaac roars, clawed hand gripping her by the throat. Derek is on his feet immediately, eyes glowing red as he moves toward Isaac. Stiles shouts, “Hey!” and Allison draws her bow and points an arrow at the teen holding her best friend several inches off the floor. Lydia claws at Isaac's hand with her own nails, trying to gain a breath, which she barely manages to do. She gasps in a short, sharp breath and lets it out in a choked, wailing, earth-shattering scream.

Isaac drops her immediately, hands moving up to cover his ears in defense against the shrill, piercing noise. The other wolves in the room do the same, while Stiles, Allison and Danny stare on in muted horror, wincing at the inhuman noise coming from their friend. Lydia's scream dies off like a siren fading, and she's left gasping for air at the end of it, looking terrified.

“What the hell was that,” Danny is the first to speak, looking like he's ready to leave and pretend he never learned about werewolves or anything remotely supernatural.

“A banshee,” Peter replies, following the statement with a slight grunt as he wiggles a finger in his ear, wincing. Derek looks at him questioningly, and Stiles rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Of course,” Stiles says, apparently to himself as he flips through an open book on the table and scribbles something in the margin of one of the pages. He continues, grumbling, “Why not?”

Danny scrubs a hand over his face and moves to Lydia's aid, taking her gently by the arm and leading her towards the couch. He shoots Isaac a look over his shoulder as he sits with her, gently rubbing her back as she takes wet, gasping breaths through her tears. Isaac flexes his claws, head still ringing from the proximity and volume of Lydia's scream, but his attention is pulled back when Stiles clears his throat.

“Okay, yeah, we're obviously not getting anywhere here and that is a serious problem because my best friend has joined a murderous pack of alpha werewolves and we have no idea why or how to get him back,” Stiles rambles, gaining everyone's attention – even Lydia, who is hiccuping back sobs in an attempt to get control over herself. Isaac moves back towards the table and leans heavily against Peter when he gets there, less for comfort than to rub it in everyone's face, if he's being honest with himself. Only Erica notices Derek's hand resting soothingly in the curve of Stiles' back, and she elbows Boyd sharply in the ribs, gesturing discreetly in their direction. When he sees, he quietly digs out his wallet and passes Erica a twenty.

“Wait,” Peter says, drifting away from Isaac's side yet again as he circles around the table toward the couch. He stops in front of Lydia and bends a knee, lowering himself to her level. “This is very important, Lydia. Are you listening to me?”

Lydia is dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a tissue from her purse, sniffling delicately. She gives Peter a sour look, but nods anyway.

“Do you know why a banshee screams?” Peter asks her, reaching up slowly to take the tissue from her hand. She flinches away from the initial touch, but stares blankly when he begins to gently wipe at the wet trails on her cheeks. The room is hushed as she shakes her head numbly, but Danny pipes up from beside her, surprising everyone.

“In old legends, a banshee's scream was considered an omen of death,” he says, looking at Peter with a mix of curiosity and irritation; Lydia makes a small sound but says nothing.

“That's right,” Peter replies, looking at Danny for the first time since they arrived at Derek's loft. “A banshee can sense death, and will scream when someone is about to die. So the question is-”

“Who's about to die?” Stiles finishes, hands shaking over the books and blueprints. Derek grabs one of his hands, holding it steady.

“Let's go over it again,” Derek says, looking up at Stiles with possibly the most encouraging expression Isaac has ever seen on the alpha's face. Stiles nods, and everyone pays attention as he leans over the table. Peter leaves Lydia in Danny's care and returns to the table, where Isaac leans on him again.

“We know the alpha pack are living in the same building as the Argents,” Derek says, and Allison nods tersely.

“The last thing we heard from Scott was this,” Stiles waves his cellphone in the air before reading the message aloud. “'Doing what needs to be done. Don't try to find me.'”

Peter scoffs at this, folding his arms across his chest as he puts more of his weight against Isaac, so the pair are holding each other up.

“Seriously? Boring,” he complains, and ignores the look Lydia shoots him from the couch. “We know he's morally bland and righteous enough to be an apostle. That's the only way he could even be a True Alpha, which is obviously why the alpha pack want him. Having someone so purely strong would add to their power ten-fold.”

“So they're trying to build up power for something,” Danny chimes in from his seat on the couch, still rubbing Lydia's back in small circles as she checks her makeup in her compact.

“But what?” Allison adds, and nearly everyone shrugs. “It must be something pretty big if they're trying to add that much power to their pack.”

“Revenge,” Boyd says after a beat, and Erica perks up beside him.

“Yeah, that's right, they were saying something about the hunters,” she gives Allison a dirty look, but the darker-haired girl isn't paying attention, her phone already out as she dials her dad's number.

“If it's something my family did, my dad could be in danger,” she reasons, and moves into the kitchen as the phone begins to ring.

“What did the Argents do that they could want revenge for?” Isaac asks, and receives a loud scoff of laughter from Peter, Derek, Erica, and Boyd simultaneously. He rolls his eyes. “Never mind.”

“No, that's a good point, though,” Danny says, getting up from the couch and moving toward the table, standing on the other side of Isaac. “There has to be something specific they're after. If we can figure out what it is, we might be able to find a way to stop them.”

“How are we going to figure that out?” Lydia argues from her new perch on the arm of the couch. “It's not like we can just walk in and ask them why they want to kill Allison's family.”

“No,” Danny agrees, folding his arms as he looks at the blueprints, maps, and mess of notes spread across the table. “What do we know about them?”

“Next to nothing,” Erica grumbles unhappily. “The twins can morph together to make one giant alpha.”

“Twins?” Lydia raises both eyebrows while at the same time Stiles says, “Ew.”

“There's Kali, and Ennis,” Boyd adds, grimacing at a memory of when they were in the vault. “And Deucalion.”

Stiles' phone begins buzzing across the table at that moment, and he picks it up quickly, the picture of Scott lighting up across the screen.

“Scott? Are you okay? Where are you?” Stiles fires off immediately, before the phone has even touched his ear. There's silence on the other end before a voice that is distinctly not Scott's filters through the speaker. Stiles has enough sense to put the device on speaker before dropping it to the table.

“You must be Stiles,” the voice sounds purely amused, and Derek growls at the phone in a fit of alpha rage; Isaac imagines that if he had hackles, they would be raised.

“Deucalion,” the younger Hale says between clenched teeth, and the voice shifts focus, owner obviously grinning.

“Hello Derek. Feeling better? It's a shame you weren't feeling your best the last time we spoke,” Deucalion taunts, and Derek looks ready to smash the phone. Isaac pulls it across the table, out of Derek's reach.

“Where's Scott?” he asks as soon as the phone is no longer in danger of being pulverized. There's a quiet shuffling on the other line.

“So you've assembled the whole pack,” comes the reply, deliberately avoiding the question. “I suppose you're attempting to plan some great, heroic rescue. The simple truth is, Scott doesn't want to be found. He's with us now.”

“What do you want?” Stiles finds his voice again, leaning over the table at an awkward angle to be closer to the phone. Derek grips his arm to keep him from falling, but doesn't move otherwise.

“It's much more complicated than that, Stiles,” comes the reply, and no one misses the taunting tone used when he says Stiles' name. “I'm putting a stop to something that started a long time ago. And Scott is going to help me.”

The silence that settles over them is almost tangible, Peter being the first to move as he grabs the phone from the table suddenly. “The Argent's,” he says, and Deucalion's low chuckle drifts through the speaker.

“Peter, I didn't realize you were involved in this as well. So sorry about your niece,” he croons, and Stiles snatches the phone back before Peter can crush it. Isaac grabs Peter's hand as the older man's claws extend, face twisting into a snarl.

“Just let us talk to Scott,” Stiles insists, and there's a quiet tinny shuffle from the speaker that sounds like acquiescence. The phone has changed hands, there's a soft clicking, then Scott.

“Stiles,” is all he manages to get out before Stiles interrupts him.

“Scott, dude, please come back. There's got to be another way we can stop them, okay, you don't have to do this,” Stiles is almost pleading, looking slightly frantic as he hovers over his phone.

“Stiles, you have to trust me on this,” Scott replies, sounding sure of himself. “Just stay out of it, okay? I don't want any of you getting hurt.”

“Scott,” Derek this time, taking the phone gently from Stiles' hands. “How can we help?”

There's silence, a sound like something has passed over the microphone on the other end, then, “Stay out of the way.”

The phone beeps, signaling that the call has been ended, and everyone looks around in defeat. They sit like that for a while, Stiles leaning against Derek heavily, Lydia and Danny both purse-lipped by the couch, Erica and Boyd standing a bit further away, holding hands, looking to each other for strength. Isaac is still holding Peter's hand as well, even after the man's claws have retracted back into normal nails, and the snarl has faded into a much more neutral expression.

“So, what now?” Isaac breaks the silence after several minutes.

“My dad knows where they are,” Allison says from the kitchen doorway, holding her phone triumphantly in one hand, her bow in the other. “Lets go get him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks again for being so patient with me on these slower updates. I hope the length of this one made up for how long it took.
> 
> If you don't follow me on Tumblr, or just missed it the first time, I made a Pisaac playlist on 8tracks and would really appreciate some feedback on it! You can listen to it [here](http://8tracks.com/kairros/burn-my-bridges).
> 
> I have a few other playlists up as well (one for Peter and one for Stiles), so take a look at those as well.
> 
> As always, I am always taking suggestions for music on my blog, either in my [ask box](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/ask), or in my [submissions](http://kai-face.tumblr.com/submit).
> 
> Finally as a last announcement, I've got a few projects lined up that may set updates back again a bit. I'm going to try to finish Works In Progress before I start anything new, though. Included in those projects are some shorter Pisaac fics, a Sterek fic, and a possible sequel to Works.
> 
> Thanks for reading! You guys are the best, truly, and I'm so lucky to have you. ♥


	20. Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it's been over six months since I've updated this beast?? Holy shit. Sorry about that.
> 
> The past seven months have been absolutely insane for me in some of the worst and best ways. A lot of crazy things have come out of this year that I never expected, BUT, let's get on to more important things.
> 
> Some heavy shit happens in this chapter, so maybe have some tissues on hand or a cat to snuggle or something. Some people die, but it's not terribly graphic. 
> 
> Next, I'm considering making a compilation when this is over of all of the chapter playlist songs. I'd put it on 8tracks, probably, and it would be pretty hefty. Would anyone be interested in that?
> 
> And last but not least, your playlist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Lupine Howl - Vaporizer   
> 2\. Alice In Chains - Rain When I Die  
> 3\. Arctic Monkeys - Dance Little Liar  
> 4\. Fields - Charming The Flames  
> 5\. Glass Animals - Black Mambo  
> 6\. Arcade Fire - Suburban War  
> 7\. Broken Bells - The Angel And The Fool

The call to action is more rapid than Isaac initially expects. He gets caught up in the whirlwind of orders that Derek gives, watching as people take positions, ready weapons, ready minds. He has enough sense to feel Peter gently leading him along toward the door as Lydia, Stiles, and Danny begin mapping things out in full force. Allison has gone to meet with her dad, a forerunner for the pack; Boyd goes with her, despite Erica's protests.

Isaac is left hovering between Peter and Erica as Derek leads them out of the loft. In the parking lot, Isaac gravitates toward Peter's Lexus, but stumbles when the man holds a hand up to stop him.

“Go with Derek,” Peter tells him, tone low, and Isaac watches over his shoulder as Erica gets into the passenger seat of Peter's car. He feels something in his chest twisting and tightening underneath Peter's hand and takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“I want to go with you,” is the only protest he can manage, knows that Derek can hear them from his position near the Toyota just five feet away. Peter shakes his head once, definitively, and Isaac can't help the way his eyebrows knit together, the way his gaze lowers.

“Go,” Peter tells him again, pushes gently on the teen's chest, and then he's gone. Isaac watches him get into the car with Erica, listens as the engine turns over, watches as the car leaves the lot. Derek's hand lands on his shoulder a minute later, warm and heavy and wrong.

“Come on,” his alpha orders, and Isaac obeys, sliding into the car. Both wolves are silent as Derek steers them out of the lot and toward their destination. Isaac briefly remembers Allison saying something about an abandoned shopping mall just a short distance out of town that the alphas are using as a rendezvous point, but he's not paying attention to their location as Derek drives the car in silence, alternating between staring out the window and checking his phone. Isaac only has to suffer through a few more minutes of silence before Derek speaks, startling him out of his thoughts.

“When were you going to tell me?” His tone is level and soft, but Isaac curls into himself, looking out the window in weak defiance.

“Can we talk about this later?” Isaac grumbles, watching as a puff of his breath fogs up the window briefly before fading away. He blows another breath on the window and draws a design in the fog with his fingernail, ignoring how he can almost feel Derek rolling his eyes from the driver's seat.

“I don't want to talk about it later, Isaac. I'm your alpha, I deserve to know the truth,” Derek still doesn't sound particularly angry, and Isaac is...surprised. He risks a peek over his shoulder at the man, but Derek's gaze is still fixed on the road, expression the same scowl as usual. Isaac sits up a little straighter and crosses his arms over his chest, reminding himself again of the loose-fitting v-neck that's still clinging to his frame. He tucks his hands under his elbows and sighs, staring at the floorboard between his feet.

“I was worried you would...react badly,” Isaac admitted, tapping one worn sneaker against the car door gently and rhythmically. He doesn't risk a glance at Derek this time, but the temptation is high, so he unfolds his arms to tug at a lose string on the hem of his jeans pocket instead. He hears Derek scoff and can picture another eye-roll, and Isaac almost smiles despite himself, knowing now that he's probably not in very big trouble.

“React badly? You're only dating my uncle,” his alpha's voice is full of sarcasm and a hint of bitterness, and Isaac suddenly feels guilty for keeping it from him, from everyone. He opens his mouth to say something – to apologize? He's not really sure – but pauses, feeling all-together wrong. He tries to ignore the voice in the back of his head, the one telling him that it was never any of Derek's business, and that it'll be even less when Isaac becomes Peter's beta, but suddenly he's angry, clenching his fist against his knee. He doesn't have time to dwell on the feeling as Derek slows to a stop and puts the car into park, and Isaac looks up to see why they stopped.

The defunct shopping mall looks odd and out of place, like a faded grey version of a building that's been transplanted from a drearier universe parallel to their own. The parking lot is empty, save for the familiar – yet empty – silver Lexus that's tucked neatly into a space near one of the mall entrances. Derek parks further away, putting a hand out to stop Isaac as the teen moves to get out of the car. He shoots his alpha a questioning look, but Derek is focused on the building, eyes narrowed.

“Derek?” Isaac reaches for the door handle again, a rush of anxiety welling within him. Peter's car is empty, meaning he and Erica must have already gone into the mall, but Derek wraps a hand around Isaac's arm, keeping him in the car.

“Wait,” the older wolf commands, and Isaac sinks back into the seat, stomach twisting. He clenches his hand into a fist, then lets it relax and repeats the process as Derek gets out of the car, phone to his ear. Isaac can hear bits and pieces of the conversation – Derek is discussing tactics with Stiles and Danny over the phone – but he doesn't care enough to listen, mind too preoccupied. He's replaying the morning's events in his head when Derek opens the door and leans into the car, phone tucked back into his pocket. Isaac looks at him expectantly, awaiting orders, but Derek's mouth is set into a hard line.

“Stay here,” he says, and Isaac is protesting before he's even considered his argument.

“I'm not staying here,” he counters, throwing the passenger door open and exiting the car, glaring at Derek from across the roof. “I came to help, Derek.”

“You want to help? Stay here,” his alpha repeats, and Isaac growls this time, a feral sound from deep in his throat. Derek looks about as surprised at the sound as Isaac feels, but he holds his ground.

“I'm not going to stay here while you go in there and get yourself killed. We're stronger as a pack, right? And Erica's already in there without us. What if she gets hurt?” he's about to tack something on about Peter, but he bites his tongue at the last second, realizing with another twist in his stomach that Peter's safety is the least of Derek's concerns right now. Derek surveys him for a long moment before finally nodding. Isaac shuts his car door harder than necessary in his smugness, following as Derek begins moving wordlessly toward the mall entrance.

“Stiles said they heard back from the Argents and Boyd,” Derek tells him when they stop at the door, the lock having already been broken. Isaac looks at it, then at his alpha, waiting. “The twins caught up with them.”

Isaac considers this, gaze drifting out to the two cars in the lot, then back to the door, and then to Derek. He nods, biting his cheek.

“So it's just us?” is what he says, but Derek understands what he actually means. The alpha nods, putting a hand on Isaac's shoulder.

“They'll be fine,” he says, and Isaac actually believes him, if only because he knows the Argents and Boyd can hold their own. “Let's get Scott.”

The door opens with a squeal, the old hinges having gone a while without being oiled. The sound doesn't seem to attract any attention, much to Isaac's suspicion, and he tells Derek as much in a hushed whisper. Derek agrees with a grunt and a nod, but otherwise says nothing, and Isaac follows him through the dark, dusty hall, listening for signs of life. It's impossible, he realizes after a minute, with the sounds of their own footsteps echoing off the walls and empty sales kiosks filling the large floor. He stops in his frustration, closing his eyes and trying to focus his hearing – first on his breathing, then on Derek's – but it isn't helping the sounds are all blending together so perfectly that nothing is distinct enough to pick up on. Isaac is startled into opening his eyes when Derek puts a hand on his shoulder, look of concern sitting perfectly on his alpha's face.

“You don't have to do this,” Derek reminds him, and Isaac shakes his head fiercely, adamant about helping.

“It's not that, I just--” he stops, listening to the pause in the conversation, finally picking up sounds that aren't coming from him or Derek. He looks at the older wolf, suddenly perked up, “Do you hear that?”

Derek narrows his eyes and listens, but it doesn't take more than a moment before he's shaking Isaac gently, already moving ahead. “Come on, I can hear them.”

Isaac's stomach flips as he follows after Derek quickly, moving swiftly but not quite silently through the mall. The sounds grow louder the further they get, and Isaac is rounding a corner after Derek when the alpha stops short. Isaac jolts to avoid bumping into Derek, but the alpha doesn't seem to notice, fixated instead on the open space ahead of him; Isaac peeks over the older man's shoulder, dread and confusion spreading through him at the the sight.

Peter and Erica are pitted against Ennis and Kali while Deucalion and Scott watch grimly from the sidelines. Isaac senses Derek tense in front of him, claws unsheathing before he howls and runs into the fray, announcing his arrival. The younger wolf watches as Derek put himself between his uncle and Ennis, parrying the other alpha's attacks between landing a few of his own, adrenalin and anger carrying him through the fight. Isaac moves toward Scott, claws extending when Deucalion notices his approach and turns toward him. Scott leaves the alpha's side, putting his hands out to grip Isaac's shoulders as they meet, face twisted with concern.

“I told you guys not to come! What are you doing here?” Scott is frantic, more so than Isaac can ever recall seeing him, and it sends a chill down Isaac's spine. The shorter wolf is glancing back at the fight, and Isaac looks up in time to see Peter bringing his claws down on Kali, who twists around and hooks him in the chin with her foot, sending him stumbling back. Isaac's stomach drops and he turns back to Scott, swallowing hard.

“We couldn't just leave you, Scott. After we found out that the alphas had taken you--”

“They didn't take me! I went with them!” Scott shakes Isaac a bit as he speaks, the muscle in his jaw tightening. Isaac feels hollow suddenly, and the world tilts as he tries to gather his wits.

He's still reeling when he realizes he hasn't said anything, and manages to choke out a strangled, “What?”

“Deucalion came to me for help,” Scott explained, wincing a glance at the fight when Ennis lets out a roar as Kali's foot connects with Erica's ribs, sending her tumbling out of reach of the fight. Scott sets his jaw and gives Isaac a small shake, looking at him solemnly. “Look, I'll explain later, but right now we need to help.”

Isaac barely manages a nod, immediately rushing over to Erica as Scott jumps into the fight behind them. She is laying on her side, a red spray cough escaping her mouth when he reaches her. Bloodied claws press into the floor as she shakily pushes herself upright, a weak smile crossing her face to hide the snarl of pain. Isaac reaches out a hand to help her up, but she shakes her head, settling on her knees as her arms wobble and threaten to fold under her weight.

“Hey, Iz,” she greets through gritted teeth, and he frowns at her, lifting her arm and leveling it around his shoulders to support her. She hisses loudly at the pressure on her ribs, and Isaac gently lowers her arm again, scowling. She attempts a sheepish grin, but it's more of a grimace. “Broken ribs,” she croaks, and Isaac nods, settling her gently against a support column. 

“Stay here, okay?” he tells her, taking her hand in his and squeezing gently. He begins to stand, but she stops him with a shake of her head and squeezing his fingers.

“Don't,” she whines, voice cracking, “Don't go.”

Her grip on his hand is surprisingly strong, but he carefully pries her fingers off of his own, rubbing his cheek against her palm before dropping her hand.

“I'll be right back,” he tells her, feeling his heart flutter in his chest, and he can feel her frown as he moves toward the fight.

Kali is bringing a clawed foot down on Derek, and Isaac jumps in to catch her foot, attempting to upend her. She stumbles backwards, snarling, before lurching forward and swiping Isaac across the chest. He grimaces at the sting of the alpha's claws, but jumps forward again, teeth gnashing. His attack is blocked by Ennis, who catches him around the throat and lifts. Isaac claws at the hand around his throat, feet kicking wildly, trying but failing to land a hit on the alpha that was slowly squeezing his throat shut.

He hears shouting but can't make out the words, as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton, and Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, trying to gasp for air. In the second his eyes are shut, something collides with Ennis so hard that Isaac can feel the force of it before Ennis releases him suddenly and he's on the ground, swallowing large gulps of air and coughing.

Scott had tackled Ennis while Derek was busy with Kali, and Peter was standing at the ready when the large alpha fell, fangs bared as he buries his claws in Ennis' gut and throat. His eyes flash, bright glowing blue giving way to human grey-blue as Ennis drags his claws down Peter's face and neck, hands dropping to his sides and laying motionless. Peter's body drops a second later, a beat of silence falling over the room before Kali growls in anger, the sound contorting to a strangled howl of pain as Deucalion swipes his claws across her throat. Blood splatters over them both as she collapses to her knees, a clawed hand wrapped around her bleeding neck in an attempt to keep herself alive.

She falls with a soft gurgle, the red fading out of her eyes as her body hits the floor and the room falls silent again.

Isaac looks between Scott and Derek before scrambling across the floor to where Peter fell, hands finding the open wounds that extended from the older man's cheek down to the middle of his chest. Blood has slicked the skin around the gashes, but when Isaac puts his hand over them, it's sticky and cold. He doesn't understand at first, his breath catching in his throat as he brings a shaking hand to Peter's cheek, but then Derek has lifted him around the waist and is dragging him away. He hears someone yelling, hoarse and desperate; he catches Erica's gaze across the room as Derek carries him out, her face a mask of pity, and Isaac realizes that he's the one screaming.

He stops wailing a few minutes later when his voice is cracking and fading, sitting in the front seat of the Toyota where Derek brought him. Isaac can feel how raw his throat is as it tries to heal itself, but all he can think about is Peter, laying lifeless next to Ennis, chest and throat torn open by an alpha's claws.

His voice is hoarse, his limbs heavy; he feels empty, but he can't seem to find the words to say so. Derek's face is fixed in an expression of pain and sympathy as he gets a blanket from the trunk and wraps it around Isaac's shoulders. He leaves with a quiet, “Stay here.” Isaac stays.

Derek returns a while later with Scott and Erica - limping but upright - which would have been seen as a vast improvement according to Isaac, if he were able to focus on anything other than Peter. They huddle in front of the car for a moment, and Isaac doesn't know if they realize he can hear them.

“Scott's going to drive you two back to the loft,” Derek is telling Erica, and Scott nods, glancing over his shoulder at the Toyota, at Isaac sitting inside it; Scott quickly turns his attention back to Derek instead of holding his gaze. Isaac tunes back in to Derek continuing, “...I have to stay and take care of...well...” He jerks his head toward the silver Lexus parked just a ways away, and Isaac swallows sharply. Scott and Erica both nod as if they know exactly what he means, and Isaac knows, too, he just wants it to not be true.

Scott gets in the car and starts it, and Erica gives Derek a shaky, one-armed hug before climbing into the backseat. Derek doesn't stay to watch them leave, he just turns and begins back toward the building, and Scott puts the car into gear and begins to drive. Isaac watches the shopping mall in the mirror on his side until Scott takes a turn and it disappears from sight. He can feel Scott and Erica watching him, waiting for something, but nothing comes; he just sits and stares quietly out the window, wrapped in a blanket that smells like motor oil and car upholstery.

The drive back to the loft feels shorter than the drive to the mall, but Isaac attributes this to the fact that he wasn't really paying attention to the drive, staring out the window the whole way but never really seeing his surroundings. When they get to the loft, Scott parks the car and gets out to help Erica, but she waves him toward Isaac instead, heaving herself up out of the car and moving inside. Isaac allows himself to be shepherded into the building, onto the elevator, and into the loft where Stiles, Lydia, and Danny are waiting anxiously.

In the bustle of everyone celebrating their safe arrival back, and the questions about what happened, Isaac disappears up the stairs. He shucks the blanket before shouldering his door open, leaving it in the hallway for someone else to deal with. His room smells familiar and safe and like home, so he throws himself down onto his bed and wraps himself around his pillow and cries. He cries until he can't feel anything anymore, until the tears have stopped rolling down his cheeks, until his hiccuped sobs have died down to ragged breaths.

After what could be minutes or hours, Isaac closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Erica is sitting on the edge of his bed, brushing his hair back from his face. He feels his breath catch in his throat again, but doesn't cry, just closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, it's to a crack of thunder waking him from a nightmare. Sleep drunk and scared, Isaac reaches out for Peter, but finds only empty space.

He cries himself to sleep.


	21. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter. After almost a full year in the making, I finally found the words I needed to bring this chapter, and this story, to a close.
> 
> This fic has been a wild ride for me, and I hope you guys have enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. A lot of things happened in my life over this past year that made it difficult for me to write, but a lot of really great things also happened, and those things made this thing possible. Thank you so much to everyone for your overwhelming love and support of this endeavor. This is the longest thing I've ever written, so it's a great source of pride for me, and no matter how frustrated I got with it at times, it will always have a special place in my heart.
> 
> I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who helped with music ideas for previous chapters, everyone who commented and gave kudos, and to everyone who shared and liked and talked about this with their friends.
> 
> Two more big thank yous:
> 
> To Erica, the strongest, fiercest, most amazing woman I've ever met. And to Liam, my Isaac, my mate, and the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for. Without the endless love, support, and encouragement that you two gave me, this last chapter never would have happened. Thank you for believing in me.
> 
> Here's the link for the full playlist for this fic: http://8tracks.com/kairros/works-in-progress
> 
> That's it, folks! Enjoy!

“It's been three weeks,” Lydia announces as she approaches the table with her lunch tray. Scott slides to the end of the bench to make room when Allison gives his shoulder a nudge, and Lydia takes the empty seat between them, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “The talk in the office right now seems to be academic probation, but if he doesn't come back soon, they might just expel him.”

A wounded silence falls over the table as Lydia picks up the apple on her tray and examines it before taking a delicate bite. Allison gives her lunch a contemplative look before pushing the tray down the line to Stiles, who immediately makes a grab for the fries, shoving several into his mouth at once.

Scott's eyebrows knit together as he looks at the forsaken food on his tray. “There's got to be something we can do,” he says, finally giving up the staring match with his pizza. “I mean, there's got to be _something_.”

“Maybe we should try talking to him again,” Allison suggests, looking at Scott with a light shrug.

“Don't bother,” Erica grumbles from across the table, cheek pressed against her hand as she pushes the mushy vegetables - suspiciously labeled as simply “greens” by the cafeteria staff – around her plate. “I finally got him to come down from his room last night, but it was only for a few minutes.” Boyd breaks a cookie in half and offers her a piece, which she takes and eats, expression remaining sullen.

“That's a good thing, right?” Danny asks when he's finished taking a drink of his water. He screws the cap back on the bottle, shrugging a little. When the table remains silent, he asks again, “Right?”

“It was under duress,” Boyd elaborates, giving Erica the other half of his cookie when she looks at him expectantly. “Erica carried him downstairs and told him he couldn't go back to sulking until he ate something.”

“So he _did_ eat something?” Scott asks, sitting forward, an expression of pained concern crossing his face. Erica snorts, shaking her head, blonde curls bouncing against her back and over her shoulders.

“Yeah, he ate half of a baby carrot, then threw the other half at me and locked himself in his room,” she complains, drumming her nails on the tabletop. Boyd drapes his hand over hers, fingers linking together, and her hand remains slack for barely a moment before she squeezes his. Stiles snorts, washes down a mouthful of food with a large gulp of milk and waves his hand in an inarticulate gesture.

“So he's starving himself _and_ about to get kicked out of school? Fantastic. Sounds like he's made up his mind,” he bites, the sarcasm and disdain practically dripping from every word. Lydia smacks him sharply across the back of the head and he yelps as Danny's foot makes contact with his shin underneath the table. “Ow! What the hell?”

“Stiles, he needs our help,” Scott urges, determined. Stiles scoffs and leans back, starts to roll his eyes, but stops when Scott adds, “What if it had been Derek?”

Stiles' face flushes a dark red instantaneously and he crosses his arms, scowling.  
  
“Okay, first of all, shut the hell up. Second, that's not helping your point, Scott. Derek didn't try to kill innocent people, like, oh, I dunno – _us_ , for example?” He uncrosses his arms to stuff his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, dipping his head down until his mouth disappears behind the collar of his shirt.

“Besides,” he continues, slightly muffled, and Scott can tell he's chewing on his lip. “There's no body. We don't even know if he's really dead, so isn't he kind of overreacting?”

“Wait, what do you mean there's no body?” Danny looks intrigued now, pushing his tray down the line to join the others, all wedged awkwardly into the space in front of Stiles. The mole-speckled teen shoots the group a dirty look and begins stacking the trays together, no longer accepting their bribes of food and good will.

“Derek went back to, uh, clean up after--” Scott makes an awkward and inarticulate hand gesture that doesn't actually make sense, but Danny nods him along regardless. “Well, he says when he got back inside...”

“Peter's body was gone,” Erica finishes flatly, and one of Danny's eyebrows quirks up, looking between her and Scott.

“But how is that possible?”

Scott shrugs in defeat and turns his attention downward, picking at a spot on the table where the laminate had started to peel up. Stiles gets up, walking the three feet to the trash can before dumping the contents of the trays and adding the sheets of plastic to the stack on top. Allison leans forward, looking across Lydia at Scott, a crease between her eyebrows that only appears when she's starting to get an idea.

“The others were still there, weren't they?” She asks, and Scott nods his affirmation. “And no one could have moved the body in the time between when you left the mall and Derek went back in, right?”

“It was only a couple of minutes,” Scott shakes his head, sounding as defeated as he looked. “Deucalion left when we did, plus he wouldn't have had any reason to take Peter's body. It doesn't make sense.”

“Speaking of the big bad,” Lydia chimes in from between the two, closing her compact mirror and dropping it into her purse before giving Scott a look. “Don't you think you owe us an explanation? I mean, we never did get the full story of why you ran off with the guys that were trying to kill us.” Scott has the decency to look embarrassed, tugging the edge of his sleeve down over his knuckles before releasing it and taking a breath to steel himself.

“Yeah, by the way, can we all agree that that is never, ever happening again? I'm serious, Scott, never,” Stiles' attempt at scolding sounds more like someone trying to reason with a dog as to why it shouldn't chew on their slippers, but Scott nods in agreement, smiling down the length of the table at his friend.

“Agreed. I'm really sorry, you guys,” he apologizes, and everyone acknowledges it in their own way. Erica kicks him from under the table and he gives her a small smile, which she returns. “Deucalion came to me looking for my help...he had heard rumors that I might be a true alpha, and it seems like they were true.  
  
“The alpha pack originally came here looking for the Argents, looking for revenge – some old turf war, I guess – but the one they were looking for wasn't here.”

“Gerard,” Allison cuts in, and Scott nods. Boyd snarls and Erica scoffs.

“Should have known,” Stiles mumbles.

“Wait, you mean your grandfather?” Danny interrupts, looking across the table at Allison, who nods sheepishly. “The one who was the principal last year?”  
  
“He made a lot of enemies,” is the only explanation Allison was willing to offer, so Scott came to the rescue.

“Deucalion and the rest of the alpha pack were on that list. When they found out that Gerard was unaccounted for, Deucalion wanted to leave, but the rest of the alphas wanted to wipe out all of the Argents,” Allison reaches across to Scott and takes his hand, squeezing it gently. Lydia looks at the arm stretched across the space in front of her and leers at her best friend, but doesn't say anything.

“So he came to you looking for help stopping them,” Danny looks thoughtful as he considers this, before turning to Allison. “But two of them went after you and your dad anyway. What ever happened with that?”

She smiles grimly, taking her hand back from Scott to pick at the lacquer on her nails, looking unaffected.

“They didn't put up a very good fight,” she shrugs one shoulder, trying to sound nonchalant about it and mostly succeeding. “They ran off after dad put a couple of bullets into them, but we don't think their injuries were fatal. There's a possibility that they could come back, but seeing as two of their pack are dead and the third left without them, we probably won't be seeing them around.”

“You mean you didn't shoot them full of arrows? Now I feel _special_ ,” Erica sneers. Allison gives her a look but doesn't rise to the bait, instead standing and picking her backpack up from the ground beside her.

“I've got to get to history. Keep me updated, okay?” The last part is directed at Scott, who nods and smiles when she bends to give him a quick peck before quietly excusing herself. There's a moment of quiet as Scott adoringly watches her walk away, broken by shuffling as Stiles finishes stuffing his books into his bag and begins rising from the table as well.

“Yeah, I've actually got a free period next and I told Derek I'd meet up with him to go over some stuff,” the explanation is vague at best, which piques Scott's interest, drawing his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“What kind of stuff?” Scott asks, and Stiles scowls, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

“Derek's been going out at night, looking for Peter, y'know? Looking for any kind of clue as to where he went, what he's up to...”

“What makes you think he's up to anything?” Erica's nose wrinkles as she gives the human a look, startled and mildly offended, although she isn't sure why.

“Oh, uh, I dunno, only the fact that he's already tried to kill all of us once,” Stiles bites back, sarcasm dripping from every word. He rolls his eyes and presses onward before she can interrupt him with a catty remark. His expression sours as he continues, “I'm just helping Derek. Even if the guy is a psychopath, he's still Derek's uncle, and he could be pretty badly injured if he's not totally dead yet.”

“Just keep us updated. And let us know if there's anything we can do to help,” Scott tacks the last bit on, giving Stiles a warm smile of encouragement, letting his friend know that despite his hang-ups, he's doing the right thing.

“If you're planning on rounding up a search party, count me out,” Lydia smiles a sickly sweet smile that doesn't reach her eyes, head tilted slightly as she lifts the strap of her purse to her shoulder. “I mean, I think I've already done my share of helping the psychopathic zombie wolf, especially considering he didn't really give me much of a choice.”

She stands, sweeping away before anyone can get a word in. Stiles watches her leave with a world-weary expression that would be better suited to Derek before waving his own goodbye to Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Danny.

“Right, well, I'm already late for band practice,” Danny excuses himself after a beat of silence, waving over his shoulder as he leaves the table at a brisk pace. Erica watches him leave disinterestedly before leaning heavily on Boyd and giving Scott a bored look across the table.

“So, what's the plan, O' Mighty True Alpha?” She teases, twirling a piece of hair around her index finger. Scott shrugs, looking almost lost.

“I...don't know. I guess all we can really do now is wait to see if Derek and Stiles come up with something,” he sounds displeased with this answer, but it's obvious that there really isn't much to be done. With a sigh, he slings his backpack over one shoulder and stands, giving Boyd and Erica a more confident smile now. “For right now, though, you guys should get back to class.”

Erica snorts, cocking an eyebrow and making no move to rise from the table, despite the fact that most of the students from their lunch period had cleared out and were already back in class, a few hanging around for their free hour.

“And where are you going?” Boyd asks, curious, but not suspicious.

“To check on Isaac,” Scott admits, sounding mildly guilty but still managing to pull a small, tense smile. “I haven't really gotten to talk to him since...well...”

He shifts his weight awkwardly, but Boyd nods his understanding, and Erica waves a well-manicured hand in his direction.

“Off with you, then. Let us know if you get anything more out of him,” she tries to sound indifferent, but Scott gives a small, telling smile before she dismisses him with another wave of her hand.

 

* * *

 

As soon as Derek leaves the loft for the day, Isaac crawls out of bed and into the shower, barely getting through with washing his hair before the total apathy starts to creep back over him. He manages to make it back to his room and finish dressing himself before putting on a record and collapsing into bed.

It's an improvement - he supposes in some part of his logical-brain that isn't completely swamped with depression - considering that yesterday he only got halfway to the bathroom before giving up and turning back.

Face buried in his pillow, sprawled with no ceremony across the mess of blankets and sheets, he lay there for hardly a minute before he realizes what record he put on. The record Peter had been listening to the day they first kissed – well, the day they first made out in the remainder of the Hale house, desperate and warm and...

Isaac feels the shudder run through his body despite himself, the memory clashing unpleasantly with the ache in his chest, but he can't bring himself to change the record. It was one of Peter's favorites, he had told him once when they were discussing music, something that Isaac wouldn't even care about now if it hadn't been for Peter. Of all of the things the man had given him, Isaac supposes that what is sure to become a life-long interest in music isn't the worst parting gift.

The bitter reminder stings at him and he feels tears welling in the corners of his eyes, but he holds them back with a sniffle.

Three weeks.

And it's only the start, because he's dead, isn't he? Except Derek can't find the body, there's no body to find, which means...

Which means _something_ , but what? He knows he's desperate at this point, he'll take anything over not knowing, the uncertainty has been keeping him awake at night, a constant nagging reminder that he might be out there, he might need their help. But he can't will himself to join Derek on any of his midnight runs through the woods, looking for some kind of clue as to whether Peter is still out there, somewhere. He can't face the possibility that the man – his lover – might be alive, or worse, that he might not be.

A gentle knocking on his open door startles him out of his thoughts and back to reality, and Isaac is mildly ashamed that he hadn't noticed someone come into the loft, or get that close to him without realizing. He turns over quickly, and seeing Scott, settles down onto his back, draping his arm over his eyes with a sigh.

“What do you want?” Isaac tries to sound bothered, but his voice is hoarse now from a combination of stress and disuse, and instead he just sounds tired. He hears the shuffle of feet and now that he's paying attention, he can feel Scott making his way cautiously into his room.

“I was hoping to see how you were doing,” Scott says, and it sounds like an admission of guilt, which makes Isaac bark a short, humorless laugh. “I heard you haven't really been eating, so I thought...we could order pizza, watch a movie, maybe play some Xbox if you're really feeling brave--”

“Stop,” Isaac cuts him off, holding up the hand that isn't attached to the arm draped over his eyes, and Scott obediently stutters to a halt. “Go back to school, Scott.”

“What about you, Isaac? When are you going to go back to school?” Scott asks, tone quiet, trying to avoid a confrontation but knowing that he's probably going to get one. Isaac feels the words forming in his throat but bites his tongue, literally, to stop them. He takes a deep breath, feeling his entire body shake with fatigue and depression and _the effort it's taking to not punch McCall in the fucking mouth right now goddamn it_.

“I don't know,” he says after several deep breaths and several minutes of stretched silence. Scott stands still through all of it, patient, living up to the title of true alpha with every passing minute. Isaac feels his chest tighten and his throat constrict and he chokes out a sob, the first one of the day and surely not the last. He takes a shaky breath, tries to compose himself. Trembling, in a near-whisper, “I miss him.”

Isaac is suddenly very glad that he chose to cover half of his face with his arm as he feels the wetness begin to pool, dampening his eyes, his arm, and streaking down his cheeks. He hears Scott shift awkwardly, but he stays, still desperate to help. He takes a breath to tell Scott that it's okay, that he'll be fine eventually, that everyone is worrying too much, but all that comes out is another sob, this one wracking his whole body. He curls onto his side and pulls his knees up to his chest, pillowing one arm under his head and curling the other around it, burying his face in the crook of his elbow and heaving another hard sob.

He doesn't really register the weight of Scott sitting on the bed, but the warm weight of the alpha's hand on his shoulder is heavier than he thinks it has any right to be, and Isaac chokes on another sob, trying to get his emotions under control.

“I'm sorry,” he sounds pitiful, and deep lines crease Scott's forehead as he frowns down at his friend.

“Don't apologize, Isaac. You haven't done anything wrong,” Scott assures him, but Isaac shakes his head, face still buried in his arms. Scott sighs and leans his back against Isaac's, keeping his hand on the beta's shoulder.

They sit in silence aside from Isaac's occasional snuffle or hiccup of a sob until the wave has passed, and Isaac sits up slowly on the opposite side of the bed and leans back against Scott, rubbing one hand over his face to scrub away some of the dampness. When he finishes, he drops his hand to his side and sighs, the kind of sigh Scott knows none of them should be familiar with, but the kind that had become normal as of late.

“I love him,” Isaac admits, finally allowing himself to say it, to _feel_ it, and it nearly pulls another sob from him because he never thought he'd get to say it aloud; now that he had, he wanted to tell Peter, the one person it seemed he couldn't tell.

It's Scott's turn to sigh, and he does – a small, almost resigned puff of air – before nodding once.

“I know,” Scott says gently, unsure of what he's really supposed to say. He has known, he supposes, for a while longer than he or anyone else is really willing to admit. The way Isaac had looked at Peter...Scott knows that look, knows it's the same way he looks at Allison.

“I'm not sorry,” Isaac retorts after a beat, defensiveness creeping into his tone, suspicious of his friend's easy acceptance.

“You don't have to be,” Scott sounds surprised, which shakes Isaac's swiftly rising defenses. After a moment of silence he adds, “You can't help who you fall in love with. I know that; you didn't choose to fall in love with him, it just...sort of happened.”

He pauses, but Isaac stays silent, listening, so he continues on, “I also know that...because you fell in love with him, there must have been something still good about him. I'm sorry that none of us got to see that part of him the way you did, I know you wanted us to.”

Isaac nods this time, jerky as he stutters on an intake of breath, tears clouding his vision again. He can't bring himself to say anything, couldn't think of anything if his life depended on it, just continues sucking in gulps of air and tries not to drown. Scott waits patiently for Isaac's breathing to slow, and it does eventually.

“Derek thinks there's a good chance he's...” Isaac can't bring himself to say 'alive' because in his mind, Peter isn't – can't be – dead.

“Exactly,” Scott catches the thread of conversation and tries to steer it in a strongly hopeful direction. “You know how resilient Peter is, so until we know more...please, Isaac. Let us help you.”

Isaac stares across the room for a long moment, considering Scott's offer of help, although he's not sure what anyone could do to help him now; the only thing he wants is Peter.

The silence settles between them for several minutes, Isaac tugging at a lose string on the cuff of his shirtsleeve, Scott staring at the floor between his feet, mind wandering.

“What movie?” Isaac asks begrudgingly, having lost his motivation to chase Scott away. The alpha immediately perks up, and Isaac thinks with mild amusement that Scott really is just a big, sweet puppy.

“I grabbed a couple that always cheer me up when I'm sick or whatever,” Isaac can hear the sheepish grin and feels a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “They're in my backpack downstairs, wanna come look?”

Isaac half-turns and uses one hand to shove gently at Scott's back until the other teen quickly gets the idea and stands, giving Isaac room to crawl across the bed and get back on his feet. Scott is obviously trying to contain his joy at getting his friend out of bed, even as Isaac rolls his eyes and herds Scott toward the door with a sigh, pausing to stop the record that was playing following Scott out.

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles pulls up to the clinic where Derek had asked to meet him, noticing the complete lack of cars in the lot – even Deaton's – but shifting the Jeep into park nonetheless. He sends Derek a quick “I'm here” text before pocketing his phone and hopping out of the vehicle, approaching the door in the back of the building with key in hand. Okay, so yeah he maybe had gotten a copy made of the veterinary clinic's key, but they were there often enough that he felt it was justified, and he was pretty sure Deaton knew about it anyway.

He tries the door before inserting the key and finds it unlocked, so he swings it open enough to stick his head through. The lights are on in the examination room and Derek is leaning against the operating table with both hands, looking at several loose pieces of paper that were scattered across it. He glances up when Stiles enters, mumbling a soft, “Hey,” in greeting.

“Hey yourself,” the freckled teen shuts the door behind himself, stepping forward to stand across from Derek on the other side of the table. “Find anything?”

“Nothing useful,” Derek shakes his head, releasing his grip on the sides of the table and stretching his arms over his head. Stiles pretends not to notice the way his shirt lifts slightly above the top hem of his jeans and instead grabs several of the papers, turning them so he can read them. Derek drops his arms and walks a few feet, turns, and begins pacing back and forth. “I checked the house again, but there was no sign of him. I did pick up a strong trace of Lydia's scent in the woods and near the house, though.”

Stiles looks up at him, eyebrow raised. “Lydia? She does live right behind the property.”

“I know, but this was different,” Derek looks frustrated, like he's having a hard time puzzling it out. Stiles can't blame him, the whole situation was confusing, but he was fairly certain Lydia didn't have anything to do with it.

“Maybe she's been sleep walking again. I'll ask her next time I see her,” Stiles waves it off, and Derek seems contented with this answer for some reason. He chooses not to question it, but instead pushes onward, “Anything else?”

“Nothing. No signs of him at his apartment, and the preserve is too large for me to search by myself. He's always been good at covering his scent, so he could be anywhere and I wouldn't know it,” Derek shoves his hands into his pockets and watches Stiles study the map of the preserve, all of the small red X's he's made in red pen indicating all of the places that the wolf's search has come up empty-handed. The teen's gaze shifts to another piece of paper, slightly worn around the edges, short lists of herbs and various other things that Stiles has never heard of stacked one atop another.

“What's all this?” he asks, shuffling through several sheets of strange words and sloped, elegant handwriting.

“Spells that Deaton says we could use to track him,” Derek explains briefly, looking unaccustomed to the idea. “But we'd have to have an emissary, or someone with latent magical talent to perform them.”

“'Latent magical talent' meaning, like, what? A witch?” Stiles asks, skeptical, but Derek nods. The teen holds a hand up in a 'stop' motion, shaking his head. “Witches? Really? You're telling me there's witches, too? Like werewolves and weird lizard creatures weren't enough?”

Derek shrugs. Stiles throws his hands up.

“Okay, all discussion of witches is being tabled for another day,” he shoves the papers aside with finality, and the corner of Derek's mouth twitches into a smile, but it's a tired one. Suddenly Stiles can see all of the exhaustion in his face, his posture, the sag of his body as he leans his hip into the counter across the room. Stiles rests his hands on the table, looking at the man across from him, expression pinched. “You need to get more sleep, Derek.”

“I'm fine,” the wolf argues, shaking his head, but the lighting of the examination room emphasizes the dark circles under his eyes, the week-old scruff on his jaw, the sallow pallor of his face. “I need to find my uncle, or at least figure out what happened to him.”

“I know that,” Stiles sighs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers finding a loose thread and tugging at it. He looks at the scattered pages on the table and chews his lip, thinking. “Look, I'm just...worried about you, okay? And you're not going to do anyone any good if you're not taking care of yourself. Take the night off, go home and get some rest.”

Derek looks guilty, turns his gaze away from the teen and looks at the various jars of herbs sitting on the counter instead. “I can't go home, not with Isaac...I just can't.”

Stiles nods, understanding in some way, and shrugs. As casually as possible, he suggests, “You could come to my house.”

Derek gives him a wide-eyed, startled look, and Stiles back-peddles, waving a hand dismissively.

“My dad's on the night shift tonight, we can get take-out and watch a movie, you can crash on the couch,” he rambles, cheeks pink, but he hopes the fluorescent lighting of the room will be enough to hide it. “It'll be fun, c'mon. We can invite Scott, and--”

“No,” Derek shakes his head, then at the teen's hurt expression, continues, “Don't invite Scott.”

Stiles' blush deepens and he has to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat before he can speak again, “Yeah, okay. No Scott. Just us.”

Derek smiles, but quickly ducks his head and begins gathering his papers, attempting to hide it. It doesn't work, and Stiles still feels butterflies in his stomach as they walk out of the building together. He locks it up out of courtesy to Deaton, and follows Derek to the Jeep.

 

* * *

 

 

Lydia skips class and heads to the office after leaving the lunch table. Her head is pounding, has been all day, and all she wants to do is go home, take a hot bath and maybe have a nap. She had barely gotten any sleep the night before, what little she had managed to get had been plagued with dreams – not nightmares, but given the content they may as well have been – of Peter. Logically, she knows that the nature of this paranormal stuff is volatile, and they don't exactly have the best understanding of it.

She had figured that her mental connection to the undead wolf would probably always remain at least slightly in-tact. What she hadn't expected was that he would appear in her dreams every night for the last three weeks, asking for her help in exchange for information. He would tell her everything he knew about banshees, and in exchange she would gather things he needed – herbs, medical supplies, clothing – and leave it at the old Hale house.

She knows the agreement is insane, that he's insane and she may as well be, too, but for some reason, she does what he asks. She tries to reason with herself that if she didn't really want to help him, she wouldn't, but a part of her is afraid to test that theory. Maybe it was indicative of Peter's influence on her mind, but she would rather believe she was doing this of her own volition than know for certain that she had been brainwashed yet again. Telling the others was the last thing on her mind; they had too much to worry about as it was, what with Isaac, and...well, he had given her pretty clear instructions: _Don't tell anyone_. Last night he hadn't asked her for anything, had merely stated his healing progress and then proceeded to give her a lesson on banshee powers and lore. It was useful, sure, but she felt nowhere near rested when she woke up that morning. The migraine set in halfway through her first class and refused to relent, so she decides that checking out of school for the day is her best option.

The drive home is short and uneventful, which Lydia finds herself quietly thankful for. Inside, she barely manages to kick off her heels before collapsing onto her bed, not bothering to change out of her dress or even climb under the covers. She wraps an arm around her pillow and pulls it under her head, the cool surface of it against her face helping to ease the pounding in her head, and she begins to doze almost immediately.

It's hard to say when the dream starts, but before long,she's standing in the old Hale house, wearing what she fell asleep in. This is not the usual dreamscape; typically she dreams that he is in her house, sitting at her desk or leaning against the windowsill. Her dreams are warm, despite his presence in them; it's cold here, and she knows instantly that this isn't her dream. She wonders, as she wraps her sweater tighter around herself, if Peter's dreams were always like this – barren, lifeless, dreary. She feels a pang of sadness for the man, but pushes it away quickly as she takes a careful step around a hole in the floor, minding her bare feet, and walks deeper into the house in search of the wolf. She remembers Isaac saying that Derek had been attempting to restore the house before he gave up and moved them into the loft, but in Peter's dream the house is in it's familiar post-fire state.

He's in the den when she finds him, staring into the empty grating of what was probably once a grand fireplace. Peter doesn't look up when she enters the room, just continues staring at the ashes, the corners of his mouth turned slightly down.

“What are you doing here?” his voice is soft when he finally speaks, and she pulls her sweater tighter around her frame, finding herself wishing there was a fire in the grate.

“I figured you could tell me that, since this is your dream,” she lifts one perfect eyebrow, but it drops again when Peter finally raises his head to look at her, and she sees the wounds from the alpha's claws have almost healed completely, leaving fresh pink scars in their place. His eyes flash an angry red, then return to normal, and her breath falters. “Oh.”

“They look healed on the outside, but underneath they're still raw,” he tells her without prompting, and she shifts her weight slightly from foot to foot, arms crossed in front of herself in an attempt to keep warm. She doesn't say anything for a long time, considering everything she's just learned.

“How much longer will it take to heal?” she asks, not out of concern in the slightest, and he seems to know this.

“Weeks, months, who knows,” he shrugs, “I almost died, again. It's surprisingly difficult to recover from a second time, even as an alpha.”

Lydia resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead taking a step closer and slowly lowering herself to sit on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She takes another cursory glance of the room, and she can feel Peter watching her as she does so.

“Isaac misses you,” her tone is nonchalant, but she still glances at him out of the corner of her eye, looking for a reaction. His expression wavers, pulls tight, then smooths out to indifference again. She drops her gaze from the mantle of the fireplace to the fabric stretched over her knees. “I don't like it. The two of you, I mean.”

“You've made that abundantly clear,” his tone is sharp, but she can hear a hint of exhaustion in it.

“It's also not my business,” she presses on, carefully examining the pattern of her dress. “I may not understand it, and maybe Stiles is right and you're just using this as some sort of way to get in with all of us so you can kill us, but...”

Lydia sighs, lifts her gaze to Peter's face, which he is keeping carefully neutral. “Maybe we're all wrong, and maybe you're good for each other. Just know that if you hurt him, half of this pack, or whatever we are, will tear you apart.”

He looks mildly surprised at her threat for just a moment before he smirks, although it doesn't last long. His hand covers the scars on his face and he winces, and Lydia tries to remind herself that he deserves this and so much more when she starts to feel sorry for him again. Before she can say anything else, she hears her phone ringing, and she knows, somehow, that the noise means she's waking up.

“Talk to Isaac,” she says, standing and brushing bits of ash and charred wood from her dress. He doesn't reply, so she turns to walk away--

\--and wakes up in her bed, arm curled around the pillow under her head, headache having subsided and feeling at least a little more rested than before.

 

* * *

 

Scott doesn't leave the loft until nearly midnight, well after Isaac has gone to bed. They ordered pizza like he had promised, and watched the majority of the first season of Battlestar Galactica, at Isaac's insistence. Scott had never seen the show before, but he had found himself enjoying immensely, despite his inexperience with the sci-fi genre. After a few slices of pizza and some ice cream, Isaac began piping up with occasional trivia or information about the show, helping to explain parts that Scott didn't understand.

When Isaac started to doze off, Scott gently woke him and sent him to bed, then stayed behind to clean up the apartment a little. It was clear that Derek hadn't been there much in the past three weeks, but he knew that the other alpha was doing what he could to find Peter. Once the dishes were done, a load of laundry washed and put in the dryer, and the living room picked up, he figured he had done enough for the night.

In the elevator, he types out a note on his phone, reminding himself to go to the store tomorrow and pick up some easy meals for Isaac. He feels guilty for not being able to do more for his friend, especially when the beta is suffering. He knows that he can't relate to what Isaac is feeling, but he still wants to help, even if that means making sure his friend stays fed. When the elevator lets him out on the garage level, he makes his way to his bike but pauses before turning the key as he catches a scent. It's gone a moment later, and isn't strong enough for him to identify, so he waves it off, starts his bike, and heads home.

Isaac gets about an hour of restful sleep, half-aware of Scott cleaning downstairs, but he's tired enough he can't bother to drag himself out of bed to tell the alpha to go home. It's not that he doesn't appreciate it – he does, really, more than he can say – but he knows the other wolf has more important things to deal with. Still, he's fast asleep before Scott finally leaves, and only wakes up when his phone begins to buzz in his jeans pocket, alerting him of a text from the other wolf.

 

_Left some clothes in the dryer for you, don't leave them there or they'll wrinkle! See you at school._

 

He texts back a simple, _Thanks_ , then silences his phone and lays it on the floor next to his bed. He buries his face into his pillow and sighs heavily, feeling slightly lighter after spending some time with his friend, but the lightness sparks a pang of guilt in his belly, and he rolls over onto his back. The ceiling is bare, and he wishes idly that he had put some glow-in-the-dark stars or a poster or something up there, but he closes his eyes and tries to force himself back to sleep. He fights to quiet his thoughts, mostly nagging anxiety and guilt, and is finally starting to drift off, when he hears a floorboard in the hallway creak.

Isaac's eyes fly open and he sits up quickly, staring at the open door to his room. The hallway is dark, but even through the darkness he can't see anyone out there. He sits forward slightly, bare feet touching the floor, and calls softly into the hall, “Derek?”

There's no answer, although he can't say why he was expecting one. He knew the alpha wouldn't be back tonight, but he could swear he heard someone in the hallway. Frowning, eyebrows knitted together, he takes a breath and stands up, taking a step toward the door. He hears the board creak again, can tell it's the one at the top of the stairs, and cocks his head to listen. It's muted, almost like it's being hidden, but he can hear a heartbeat, strong and slightly elevated. The board creaks a third time, closer to his room, and he catches the scent of burnt wood, coffee, and smoke just as Peter comes into view.

Isaac freezes in the center of his room, stomach and heart both clenching out of anxiety and shock. He forgets to breathe for a long moment, simply staring at his lover, observing the scars on his face and neck. Peter tilts his head down slightly, glancing up at the teen and looking incredibly guilty.

“Hey, pup,” he greets quietly after a long moment in which they just stare at one another. Isaac realizes he's crying and wipes at his face angrily, attempting to dry the tears that have already managed to escape. He hiccups a sob, and suddenly Peter is there, wrapping his arms around him as Isaac cries into his shoulder.

Peter wraps a hand around the back of Isaac's neck, the other coming to rest in the middle of the younger wolf's back, thumb rubbing smooth circles while the other cradles his head to Peter's shoulder. Isaac's fingers grip at the front of Peter's shirt tightly, refusing to let go, hoping through all of his sobs that this isn't a dream, or some kind of joke.

They stand there for several long minutes, until Isaac's crying has died down to small short intakes of breath, his shoulders shaking with each one, until finally his grip begins to loosen. Peter feels the teen prying his fingers off of his shirt and releases his hold on the younger man's neck, sliding his hand to his shoulder instead. Isaac lifts his head from Peter's shoulder and takes a small step back, fingers lingering on the other man's shirt for just another moment before he balls them into a tight fist which connects with Peter's jaw. The older wolf manages to keep from being thrown off balance by the strike, hand coming to meet the reddened patch of skin where Isaac had hit him – actually hit him – as he looks to the younger man, astonished. Isaac only looks marginally guilty, but any trace of it and the previous despair he had shown melts away to barely contained anger and hurt, fists still clenched at his sides as he glowers at his lover.

“Sorry,” Isaac grumbles, although he doesn't really mean it, and the apology shocks a laugh out of Peter.

“No, please, I'll be the first to argue that I deserved that,” he rubs his cheek before dropping his hand to his side, the last of the redness and pain fading. Isaac nods curtly, taking a shallow breath which he cuts short when he feels another hiccup-sob rising in his chest. He holds the air in for a moment before slowly releasing it. Peter had been missing and presumed dead for three weeks, yet here he was, mostly whole and apparently alive, and suddenly Isaac can't remember any of the things he had wanted to say. Peter seems to recognize this, but doesn't push it and doesn't speak, he just waits patiently and quietly for Isaac to collect his thoughts. They stare at each other for another minute before Isaac feels words bubbling up in his throat and he has to let them out.

“What happened? I, we saw you die,” his voice cracks on the last word but he clears his throat, frustrated and embarrassed, and tries again, “Why didn't you come back?”

Peter doesn't answer at first, but Isaac sees the guilt flash across his face as he moves, aimlessly wandering in the small space, keeping some distance between them as he does. The older wolf trails his fingers over the bit of Isaac's desk that isn't covered with long-forgotten homework, textbooks, and various other things. He picks up the book sitting at the top of the scattered pile, a thick volume on Greek mythology, and begins to lazily leaf through it.

“I thought I had died, as well,” Peter finally says, voice soft, and Isaac recognizes the honesty in his tone. His focus remains on the book, idly turning pages as he continues speaking. “In reality, I had only blacked out for a few minutes. When I woke, I was weak, but I realized what had happened. I was barely able to drag myself from the building and into isolation so I could heal.”

“What do you mean 'what had happened'? Why didn't you wait for us, let us help you?” Isaac sits on the edge of his bed, eyes never leaving Peter, not trusting that he would still be there if he looked away. “Derek went back in to get you, we could have helped.”

“Derek went back into retrieve my body,” Peter snaps the book shut, tone morphing into something bitter and spiteful. He drops the book back onto the desk, turning to face Isaac, leaning against the surface and crossing his arms over his chest. “If he had found me in that state, he likely would have killed me to put me out of my misery. Even I didn't think I had a chance in hell of recovering.”

Isaac frowns, not fully believing that Derek would have so readily killed his uncle if he had found him so injured, barely hanging on to life, but he doesn't argue it. He knows in some capacity how skewed Peter's vision of his familial relations is, but he also knows that Peter truly believes what he's saying.

“You didn't answer my first question,” Isaac admonishes, then repeats, “What do you mean 'what had happened'? And how did you recover?”

He struggles to make sense of the situation; everything feels like a dream to him in this moment, but he's determined to understand why Peter had simply left him – left the pack – without a word or even a clue. Derek and Peter had always said that wolves were stronger in a pack, healed better in a pack, so why leave? Isaac watches as Peter drops his hands his sides, resting them on the edge of the desk as he stands up a little straighter.

“Coincidentally, those questions share the same answer,” the older wolf replies after a stretch of silence, and Isaac would roll his eyes if he weren't so invested. He waits for Peter continue, watches as the man lowers his head slightly and closes his eyes, and Isaac wonders for a brief second if he's about to pass out or something. The thought – all thought – leaves him when Peter's chin tilts up and his eyes open, revealing deep red instead of steel blue. The color elicits a small noise from Isaac, it tugs at something in him, and he realizes his eyes flash warm gold in response as he automatically shifts to stand.

Peter's eyes return to their familiar human grey-blue, and Isaac's follow his alpha's lead. They stare at one another for a long moment, Peter looking mildly smug, before Isaac finds words to accompany his astonishment.

“You're an alpha,” Isaac says dumbly, brain slowly catching up to the situation. “You killed an alpha, and because you didn't die--”

“I became an alpha, again,” the older wolf sounds worryingly pleased with this development, but Isaac can't bring himself to care about his motivation at the moment. “If Derek had found me that weak and close to death, do you really think he would have helped me? Helped me to heal and to cultivate my usurped power?”

Doubt settles in Isaac's stomach, cold and heavy, but he tries to ignore it. He tries to think over what he knows: Peter had killed Ennis and had taken the alpha's power as his own, which was probably the only thing that had kept him alive through that encounter. He had managed to stay in hiding for three weeks, slowly recovering, rebuilding.

Now he was here, talking to Isaac.

“So you hid to heal,” Isaac redirects, trying to avoid the 'Derek' train of thought in this moment. “And now you're here.”

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Yes, pup.”  
  
“So, now what?” He doesn't know what else to say. Peter hasn't even told him why he was there in the first place. The other wolf – the alpha – shrugs his shoulders, rolling his head to one side as he takes in a deep breath, straightening his head on the exhale.

“Well, I'm not fully healed. I have no pack, so my powers are underdeveloped, and they'll remain that way for some time without one,” Peter's tone has switched to business, and while Isaac doesn't miss the change, he doesn't say anything about it. Instead, he shoves his hands into his jeans pockets and waits to hear out what the alpha has to say. The man takes a pause to observe Isaac before continuing carefully, “You said once that you wanted to be my beta.”

Isaac feels his heart rate increase and silently curses himself for it.

“Yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat when his voice cracks awkwardly in the middle of the word. He shrugs with one shoulder, trying to look unaffected. “I did say that.”

He waits for Isaac to say more, but he doesn't; the teen wants Peter to do the talking here, wants to hear what he has to say, wants to avoid giving him ammunition. The older man resists the urge to shift uncomfortably, but Isaac can tell that he's unnerved, and he gains a sort of satisfaction from this. When the alpha finally finds his voice again, his expression is guarded.

“Is that still what you want, Isaac?” Peter's voice is low, and Isaac isn't sure if what he's hearing is hopefulness or vulnerability. He thinks about the question, considering it carefully. Peter is older and more experienced than Derek or Scott, although he also has more enemies, one of which might actually be Derek. As Isaac looks over the man standing in front of him, realization slowly begins to dawn that he's definitely in too deep, but he isn't sure he wants to stop.

He takes a deep breath in, holds it for a count of five, then releases it slowly. On the end of the breath, he says softly, “Yes.”

Peter tries not to grin, but the action somehow serves to make him look smug, more than Isaac thought was actually possible. He extends a hand – palm up – to the teen, who looks at it for a brief second, swallows the lump in his throat, and places his hand in the alpha's. Isaac allows Peter to gently pull him towards himself and the desk, lets the older wolf bury his face in the crook of his neck as soon as the distance between them in closed. He curls himself around Peter this time, arms draping over his shoulders, one hand reaching up to comb through the shorter man's hair.

“I missed you, pup,” the man mumbles against his neck, and Isaac barely hears it over the sound of his own heartbeat. He makes a quiet noise of surprise, grip tightening on his lover's hair as Peter kisses the skin of his throat.

“I missed you, too,” Isaac says breathlessly, heartbeat picking up speed as his alpha nuzzles up his throat, biting gently at the corner of his jaw. Isaac turns his head and catches Peter's lips with his own, kissing him desperately, but he quickly lets Peter take control of the kiss, the younger man willingly submitting to him without hesitation. He grazes his teeth over Peter's bottom lip, and the alpha growls softly, the rumble vibrating through Isaac's chest where they're pressed together sends a shiver down his spine. The kiss doesn't last long, although Isaac tries to seek out more heat from his lover's mouth when the shorter man pulls away.

“We have to leave,” Peter tells him, pressing his forehead to the younger man's, fingers idly stroking Isaac's side along his ribs. “I can't stay here, and I want you to come with me.”

The teen pulls away and closes his eyes, takes an unsteady breath and reopens them a moment later. He searches Peter's eyes for any indication of his intention – what happens when they leave and the pack comes looking for them? What happens if the pack _doesn't_ come looking for them? He had never been out of Beacon Hills in his life, and now Peter wants him to leave it all? Leave his friends, his school, the meager life he had started to build for himself?

_A life I started to build with Peter's help_ , he reminds himself.

“Where will we go?” Isaac hears himself ask, fingers curling and uncurling at the nape of the older wolf's neck. “I haven't even finished school.”

“You decide. We'll go wherever you want,” his tone is earnest and genuine, or at least what Isaac perceives as genuine coming from Peter. “I'll tutor you, you can get your GED. We can have a fresh start, Isaac. A pack and a home of our own.”

They stand in silence for a long time as Isaac considers this, weighing the options and possibilities in his mind. He appreciates that Peter doesn't press him, knows that the older wolf wants him to want this, not to feel obligated to it. Leaving his friends, the pack, school, _everything_ behind and starting new...it's what he had wanted before Derek turned him, to leave everything behind and never look back. The transformation brought him family, though, something that he though he'd never have again thanks to his father, but Peter had also given him something that he thought he'd never have.

“Okay,” he agrees after a long time, nodding once. He tries not to smile when Peter's eyes light up. “How about Seattle?”

“Seattle it is,” Peter agrees, stretching to place a chaste kiss on the teen's forehead before pulling out of his grip. The wolf moves across the room toward the door, stopping with his hand on the frame to turn back, “Pack a bag, we'll leave as soon as you're ready.”

Isaac watches him leave the room, listens to his footsteps as he makes his way down the loft stairs. He looks around his room, surveying, wondering what he should bring and what he should leave. With Peter's money, he knows they'll be able to start over without much difficulty, so he decides to pack light, bringing only the essentials and a few sentimental items. He grabs his backpack from the floor by his desk and upends the contents onto the floor of his room, replacing books and lose papers with clothes, a few of his comic books, the watch his dad gave him when he was ten, Camden's military medals.

After a final scan around the room, he picks one record from the crate of albums that Peter had bought him and places it carefully in the bag along with his other belongings, zips it up, and pulls on his shoes. As a final thought, he grabs an old homework assignment from his desk and flips it to the blank side of the paper, then grabs a pen and begins to write.

 

_Derek,_

_I'm sorry for leaving without saying goodbye. It's something I had to do, so please try to understand. You've been so busy lately, and I've been such a burden to you and the rest of the pack. I don't want any of you to worry about me._

_You were right about Peter, he's alive. I'm going with him, away from Beacon Hills. Please don't try to find us. I promise I'll be safe. Maybe after a while we can come back and see everyone again._

_Tell Scott and everyone that I'm sorry._

_\- Isaac_

 

He leaves the paper in the center of his bed and places his phone on top of it. With one last deep breath, he slings the backpack over one shoulder and makes his way out of his room and down the stairs. Peter is waiting by the door when he reaches the bottom.

“Ready?” His alpha asks, and Isaac feels a thrum of excitement in his bones. He takes one last look around the loft, at the couch where he sat with Derek, Stiles, and Scott, at the kitchen where they ate together as a pack, and nods.

“Ready,” he answers. With a grin, Peter leads him out of the loft, to his car in the lot downstairs. Isaac tosses his backpack into the back and settles into the passenger seat as Peter starts the engine, and watches in the side mirror with a sort of calm satisfaction as the loft - and eventually Beacon Hills - gets smaller and smaller, until the reflection of the city is just a slowly disappearing outline on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this was satisfying to everyone, and if not...well...sorry! I had more plans for this, but ultimately had to scrap them due to time and health problems. If my situation changes in the next few months - and let's be honest, it probably will - then I may continue with some spin-offs later on, but for now I'm calling this thing done.
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this last chapter, and what you'd be interested in seeing in any possible continuations or one-shots!
> 
> Much love to you all, thanks for sticking with me through this! I couldn't have asked for better readers. ♥


	22. Epilogue

The envelope was postmarked three days after Derek had found the note on Isaac's bed. Erica's name was on the recipient line - although the address was for Derek's loft - with no return address or any indication as to where it had come from. Inside was a greeting card, a sad-looking golden retriever staring out from the photo on the front where the words “Missing You...” were printed across the bottom in a generic scroll print. It was the kind of card that was left intentionally blank inside, so that the purchaser or giver of the card could write their own message, and this one had been filled from the top left corner to the bottom right.

 

_Erica,_

_I know you must hate me for leaving without saying goodbye. I'm sorry, I guess I'm still just too much of a coward to look you in the eye sometimes. You're my best friend - hell, you're practically my sister – and I'm going to miss you so much. I already do, honestly, but it's better this way._

_Peter and I have gone somewhere safe, where we hopefully won't be bothered. I know you're going to try to look for us, but please don't. I promise we'll be okay. I promise I'll be okay. I don't know when, but I promise to come back and visit everyone again, but not until things are different. Not until we're settled._

_I know you can take care of yourself, so I won't remind you. But please...try to be careful. There are still a lot of threats out there, and being a teenaged werewolf is hard enough as it is. Trust Scott and Derek; they're there to help. I know, it's not the same without me. It hasn't been the same without you, and it's only been a few days. I can't imagine how much different we'll both be by the time we see each other again...I hope it's not far off._

_Be safe. Be happy. We'll see each other again soon._

_Isaac_

 

The card has been sitting on Erica's dresser since the day Derek gave it to her, serving as a constant reminder of the painfully empty seat beside her at the lunch table, the hole where her best friend used to be.

Derek told her that Isaac had left his phone behind, so she sent him emails instead. In the first few weeks, the emails ranged from single sentences (“I hate you,” and “I miss you,” were the most repeated) to letters, most of them asking why Isaac had left and demanding to know where he had gone, where Peter had taken him. She was convinced, for the span of a week, that Peter had actually abducted Isaac and that he hadn't gone willingly, but she knew that it wasn't true and let the idea go when she realized that there really wasn't anyone to blame.

After that, she sent emails every few months with updates of pack activity, occasionally asking if he was going to come back soon. He never replied, but she liked to imagine that he was reading them, thinking about her.

On her birthday, she got an email that contained no message, but had an attached video. The video was of Isaac, hair shorter and cheekbones more defined than when she had last seen him. The video captured him from the shoulders up, sitting in front of a plain, off-white background with nothing else in frame. He sang “You Are My Sunshine” with a smile, then ended the video with a simple, “Happy birthday!”

She cried when she watched it. When it was over, she downloaded it to her computer's desktop so she could watch it over and over again.

That was a year ago. Isaac hadn't sent anything since.

 

Erica finishes typing the email that she's been working on for the past twenty minutes and hits send before closing her laptop and pushing away from her desk. She does a quick mental checklist – makeup, hair, shoes, phone – before slipping out the window of her bedroom and out into the night. Her parents still don't know about the wolf stuff, but she had already told them that she'd be going out with friends for her birthday, and despite their concern at their daughter's apparently sudden popularity, supernaturally good looks, and lack of medical problems, they were usually too busy to object when she told them she had plans.

'Going out' is actually meeting up at Scott's for a pack meeting and, yes, her birthday celebration. Everyone is already there waiting when she arrives, the door swinging open to reveal Stiles wearing a red party hat and a stupid grin on his face.

“Happy birthday! Finally decided to show up to your own party, huh?” She knows he's teasing, so she tosses her hair and strides past him, elbowing him gently in the side as she enters.

“Yeah, I figured it was time to grace you peasants with my beautiful face,” she taunts back, smirking as Stiles rubs the tender spot in his ribs. He shuts the door and loops his arm through hers when she holds it out expectantly, leading her into the living room where Derek, Scott, Allison, Boyd, and Lydia are already gathered. Her presence triggers a chorus of 'happy birthday's from her gathered friends and she smiles, fitting herself into the empty spot on the loveseat next to Boyd. He takes her hand and laces their fingers together, and she gives his a small squeeze in return. Stiles flings himself into the spot beside Derek on the couch, leaving an oddly exact amount of space between them which everyone seems to notice but no one comments on. Lydia sits primly on the other side of him, one knee crossed over the other. Allison is perched on the armrest beside Lydia, her feet resting in Scott's lap in the armchair.

“Okay, presents!” Lydia announces, gesturing to the small pile of gifts stacked on one end of Scott's coffee table. Erica's slightly startled, not really having registered that they were there, or that they were for her.

“You guys got me presents?” She tries not to, but she definitely sounds touched by the thought. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You're our friend,” Scott says, sounding almost offended that she would ever _not_ expect gifts from them.

“Danny wanted to be here, but he's still in London,” _visiting Jackson_ , is the unspoken end of that sentence, but if it bothers her, Lydia's smile doesn't reflect it. She hands Erica a small square box, wrapped neatly in gold wrapping paper with a small card on top. The message is hand-written in Danny's looping print,

 

_Happy birthday! Sorry I couldn't be there. I hope you like your gift (Lydia helped pick it out)._

_Much love,_

_Danny_

 

Erica slides one polished fingernail under the edge of the paper and gently tears it open, peeling it off of the small black box. She lifts the lid and lets out a startled laugh when she sees the small silver wolf earrings nestled into the satin lining. The little wolf statues are seated and frozen in a howl, but are finely detailed. A small tag hanging from one of them tells her that they aren't silver, but are in fact white gold.

She's already taking her plain silver hoops out as she flashes Lydia a bright, genuine smile. “These are great, Lydia. Thanks.”

As soon as the little wolves are dangling from her ears, another gift appears within her line of vision, this one significantly larger and held by Stiles. Stiles' gift turns out to be a pair of pumps dark red with gold chains draped over the closed toes and spikes on the heels, also picked out by Lydia.

After all of her gifts have been unwrapped and re-piled on the table – several gift cards, a CD she had been wanting for months, a new leather jacket, a bottle of her favorite perfume, the red heels, and the earrings – they order pizza, settle in, and put on a movie. Halfway through The Craft – Erica's choice, since it's her birthday – Stiles produces a Cards Against Humanity box, and they play through the rest of the movie.

When the festivities are starting to die down, Erica decides it's time to go home and asks Boyd to walk her. Scott finds an empty shopping bag for her to carry her gifts in and they say their goodbyes not long before Lydia announces that she, too, must get home to get her beauty sleep. She offers Allison a ride home and only rolls her eyes once when she and Scott take a little longer saying goodnight than necessary.

Stiles and Derek are the last to leave, Stiles giving the excuse that he has reading for school to get done. Scott doesn't protest, although he knows it's not exactly the truth. It had become clear to everyone over the past year that Stiles and Derek were, if not dating, at least dancing around the possibility of it. He knew it wasn't his business, so he tried not to pry, trusting that Stiles would tell him if anything actually developed.

 

They leave together, Stiles offering Derek a ride home which he seems grateful for. Scott waves from the door, an action which Stiles repeats as he slides into the driver's seat and kicks the engine to life. He and Derek sit in amiable silence through most of the drive, although he finds himself wishing some jackass hadn't stolen his radio last month.

When they pull up outside of the loft, Stiles parks and leans back, turning his upper body to face Derek.

“So,” he starts, but realizes he doesn't really know what to say, so he half-shrugs when Derek looks at him expectantly. The older man rolls his eyes, but there's no real irritation behind the gesture, just mild exasperation.  
  
“Have you talked to Deaton about the emissary training?” Derek asks out of nowhere, and Stiles balks for a minute, not expecting the question.

“Uh, I mean, not since he told me about it,” he rubs the back of his neck and glances away from Derek, who nods but keeps his face carefully neutral otherwise.

“Have you thought about it, at least?” This time there's more gentleness to his tone, but a seriousness under that which draws Stiles' gaze back to him. The teen chews his lip as he considers Derek and the question both, then he nods.

“Yeah, I think I'm gonna take him up on it,” he says, tapping his foot against the floorboard of his car, an outlet for his energy. Derek nods again, and the gesture is less tense now.

“Good,” he says, which startles Stiles a little, he didn't think it was going to be that easy.

“Yeah?” Stiles can't help but ask, a little confused. When Deaton had first offered to train Stiles as an emissary to Scott's developing pack just a few months ago, Derek hadn't seemed keen on the idea. Stiles had brought it up to Derek simply because he had known the man longer than anyone else – longer than Scott, even – and he thought Derek might be able to give him some insight.

Derek rolls his neck and looks out the window at his building, instead of looking at Stiles when he speaks next.

“Yeah,” his tone is quiet, and Stiles reaches over on impulse and takes Derek's hand in his, squeezing it. Derek smiles, a small thing, and gives Stiles' hand a gentle squeeze in reply. “You'd be good at it.”

That's all he says for a long time, and they sit in comfortable silence, Stiles' thumb brushing over the back of Derek's hand, fingers twined together.

“The alpha pack could have been a lot worse,” Derek sighs after a minute, and Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes, knowing what's coming next. They'd had this conversation a lot over the last year, so much so that he was starting to wonder if they could ever talk about anything else. Every time Stiles even tried to bring up their relationship, and how it had suddenly stopped developing a few months ago, they ended up having this conversation instead.

“...And you want me to be able to protect myself if something happens to you, I get it,” Stiles grumbles in response, attempting to draw his hand back. Derek holds fast, however, and finally turns his gaze back on Stiles, mouth a hard line.

“I'm serious, Stiles.”

“Yeah? Well, so am I, Derek. I'm _seriously_ fed up with hearing about it.”

  
They glare at each other for a long minute before Derek finally releases his hand, sighing. He throws his own in the air, letting them fall limply into his lap as he glares out the window, not looking at Stiles anymore.

“Seriously, I want to talk about this. What are we doing? I know we decided not to do anything until I turn eighteen, but we haven't talked about it all, and I'm turning eighteen in a few months,” Stiles rushes the words out, needing Derek to talk to him or to at least listen to him for once instead of deflecting or running off into the night at every damn turn. “Will you just talk to me? About something other than this supernatural bullshit, for once?”

“Fine,” Derek sighs, and that is not what Stiles expects. He does a double-take.

“What?”

“I said, 'fine',” Derek grumbles, turning to look at him. It's clear from his face that he's not happy about it, but Stiles is beaming on the inside, finally getting the conversation he's been after for almost a year now. “You're right, we need to talk about it. We're waiting until you turn eighteen.”

“And then?” Stiles prompts after a long pause in which Derek doesn't say anything else. The wolf rolls his eyes, obviously ready to be done with the conversation already.

“And then,” Derek purses his lips and looks at Stiles, who definitely does not shiver. “Whatever you want.”

Stiles practically leaps across the space between them and presses a quick kiss to Derek's mouth before the man can protest. His face is red when he pulls away, but he's grinning, and Derek can't help but smile a little in response. The teen sits back in his seat and bounces his leg, taps his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Promise?” He asks, as Derek jiggles the door handle on the passenger side, the only way to get it to open from the inside. It pops open gently after a moment and he slides out, shuts the door, and leans on the frame of the open window.  
  
“Talk to Deaton,” is what he says instead, and Stiles can live with this. He can definitely live with this.

“I will,” he means it, and Derek knows it, because he smiles one more time before turning and heading into the building. Stiles waits until he's inside before he turns the key in the ignition, the Jeep's old engine rumbling to life, and drives home with a smile on his face the whole time.

 

* * *

 

 

At home, Erica checks her email one more time before bed. There's nothing waiting for her, no birthday message from Isaac this year. She's disappointed, but she can't say she was really expecting one. A lot can change in one year. She still thinks about him every day, but her thoughts are a lot less bitter now, more controlled, more understanding.

In a way, she's jealous that he got the chance to get out of Beacon Hills, the one thing she always wanted to do.

She opens a new email and writes,

 

_Isaac,_

_Missing you, as always. The pack threw me a great birthday party tonight. It would have been better if you were there, though._

_I hope you're not dead in ditch somewhere._

 

She doesn't sign it, simply hits send and goes to bed, feeling like maybe, sometime soon, life might return to normal.


End file.
